BL 
 
and kneeling by the low chair looked up into his face. (See 
 page 29.) 
 
Leaves 
 
 From an Argonaut's 
 Note Book 
 
 A Collection of Holiday and other Stories 
 
 illustrative of the brighter side of 
 
 Mining Life in Pioneer 
 
 : : Days : : 
 
 By 
 JUDGE T. E. JONES 
 
 Illustrations by 
 LAURA ADAMS ARMER 
 
 Mi&itafcet & Kap Company 
 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO, CAL. 
 
 1905 
 
 1 * 
 
Copyright 1905 
 
 by 
 T. E. Jones 
 
Banct oft UbOM* 
 
 e D t c a 1 1 o n 
 
 t&e pioneer $met3 ot California and t&cir 
 
 and 2Dauo;6ttr0 tfits booK, to6ic6 t6c 
 
 ftutijot behctits to represent tfie 
 
 brighter and better 0ide of 
 
 mining life in early da#0, 
 
 i$ respectfully dedica 
 
 ted by one tofjo 
 
 tje plains in '50" 
 
PREFACE 
 
 In presenting this volume as a candidate for 
 public favor, the Author will be brief in his prefa- 
 tory remarks. Coming to this State with the tide 
 of immigration which flocked in from every 
 quarter in 1850, I made my home in the mines 
 until after the century was ended, in fact my home 
 was in one mining county for forty-nine years. 
 Naturally, in such a long period of residence, I 
 saw mining life in all its various phases. 
 
 I began writing for the Gulden Era and other 
 publications, stories of mining life at an early day, 
 none of which, however, are published in this vol- 
 ume. One day the editor of the Trinity Journal 
 (my home paper) asked me to write a story for 
 him, and after some badinage I promised to do so. 
 I was then mining with very poor success, and, it 
 being a " dry " winter, I had lots of leisure time 
 on my hands, so I wrote the story of the " Milk 
 Pan." It was received with such general favor 
 that thereafter, whenever a holiday of any sort was 
 coming I would be importuned for another fit- 
 ting story, and generally I complied. I have made 
 a selection of what / think the best of what I have 
 
6 PREFACE 
 
 written and herewith present them. Many of the 
 incidents related are true in foundation, being 
 known to have occurred either by myself, or by 
 reliable personal friends, and around these inci- 
 dents I have thrown the glamour of romance. To 
 the generation of men and women who were 
 raised to manhood and womanhood in the pioneer 
 days of the mines, will be given an opportunity to 
 recall from their own recollections some of the 
 characters and incidents similar to such as are 
 related herein. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 THE MILK PAN 13 
 
 THE NEW LEAF 43 
 
 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 61 
 
 THE RESERVOIRS 89 
 
 THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 107 
 
 THE JOES 125 
 
 CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 139 
 
 BILL'S LUCK 161 
 
 THE FERRY 173 
 
 SIMPSON'S THANKSGIVING 201 
 
 STUBBS' WOOING 211 
 
 THE END OF LEAP YEAR 221 
 
 MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 235 
 
 MR. SNIVELY^S VACATION 261 
 
 THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 289 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Facing 
 Page 
 and kneeling by the low chair looked up into his face. 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 " here you are, and not looking nigh as peekid as I 
 
 thought you would." 105 
 
 "Why don't you ask me to come in? It makes no differ- 
 ence, for I'm coming anyway." 131 
 
 "You have come, Mildred, come at last. How many years 
 
 I have wished for your coming." 147 
 
 "Iwish I had such a housekeeper for every day," said 
 
 Mr. Swipes, gallantly 227 
 
 The words which bound them together until death or the 
 
 district court should put them asunder, were spoken. 246 
 
 "Then you can get out of here on my invitation. There's 
 
 the door ; mosey along." 296 
 
Leaves 
 
 From an Argonaut's 
 Note Book 
 
 PART I 
 
THE MILK PAN. 
 
 A STORY OF Two HOLIDAYS. 
 
 The mining camp at which I wintered in the 
 season of 1850-51, was located on the Middle 
 Fork of a stream in the Middle Mines and was 
 known on the express list as the town of Cedar- 
 ville, while among its own denizens and those of 
 the camps close adjoining, it was better known by 
 an appellation which not even a desire to be 
 graphic shall induce me to transcribe in these pages. 
 Like most of the mining camps of the day, the 
 buildings were built in the main of unhewn logs 
 and were built solely with an eye to comfort. 
 Scattered along either bank of the stream or on its 
 tributary gulches, were the cabins of the miners to 
 whom the little place was a sort of fountain-head 
 from which they weekly received their supplies of 
 meat, groceries, tools and other necessities of min- 
 ing life. The mines in the vicinity were not among 
 the richest of the many placer deposits of the 
 State, yet they contained some first-rate claims, 
 while in any favorable place, more than wages 
 
14 THE MILK PAN 
 
 could be realized by the common method of work- 
 ing in those days with a rocker. 
 
 The principal building of the town and the one 
 which would naturally attract the attention of a 
 newcomer, was the hotel. Like the other build- 
 ings, it was built, also, of logs, and viewed from 
 a distance, it had the appearance of three log cab- 
 ins joined together. A closer glance showed that 
 this was not the case, but the builders, probably 
 not having force sufficient to handle logs the full 
 length required, had sawn them into lengths of 
 sixteen or twenty feet, which were then held in po- 
 sition by square blocks of wood let into notches of 
 the logs, cut in on either side and end. The whole 
 was covered by a long, flat roof of shakes. Inside, 
 the rough walls were covered with a lining of 
 cloth, and along each wall a triple row of bunks, 
 placed above each other, furnished sleeping quar- 
 ters for the numerous boarders and wayfarers 
 whom the pursuit of fortune attracted to the town. 
 A long, stationary table occupied the center of the 
 room and at either end a huge fire place extended 
 across the width of the building, in which the fires, 
 like those of heathen theology, seemed never to die 
 out. This rough looking structure was, if we were 
 to judge by the little sign above the door, the 
 "Miners' Home," and the sign further indicated 
 that the proprietress thereof was a Mrs. Grayson. 
 
THE MILK PAN 15 
 
 In the four or five months' residence I had under 
 this roof, I discovered that our worthy hostess was 
 fair and forty, though not fat ; that she had buried 
 one husband, drove off another and was at this 
 time on the lookout for a third one. 
 
 The boarders at the Miners' Home averaged 
 about thirty in number, made up of miners whose 
 claims were near the town and an occasional 
 "sport" who dropped in to dig into the pockets of 
 the aforesaid miners. A motley crowd we must 
 have been ; I can look back through the twenty years 
 which have intervened and imagine I can see them 
 all again. There was one chap (who shall be 
 nameless) who was perpetually torturing the 
 strings of a wheezy fiddle another who was 
 equally industrious in blowing melancholy wails 
 from a cracked flute. Nearly every State in the 
 Union was at times represented among us and the 
 brogue of Ireland and accent of Germany were 
 not often missing. We were on the best of terms 
 with ourselves, our landlady and with each other, 
 and in this happy state of mind the first month of 
 winter had nearly passed away and Christmas eve 
 was upon us. 
 
 Let none of my fair readers conjure up visions 
 of a Christmas tree, a happy social gathering and a 
 merry dance on this Christmas eve. No, the mines 
 of twenty years ago and the mines of today were 
 
1 6 THE MILK PAN 
 
 as different as night is from day. There would 
 have been willing hands to raise the Christmas 
 tree and load its branches with rich and valuable 
 presents, but the wives, the mothers and sisters 
 and other loved ones to whom we might have 
 given them were dwelling on the waters of another 
 ocean. What would Christmas be to us? 
 
 And, sooth to say, if I were to judge the 
 thoughts of others by my own, we were in no mood 
 for merry-making. With many of us it would be 
 the first anniversary of that joyous night passed 
 away from the old home circle and memory was 
 too busy with the past. The old home influences 
 yet had a strong hold upon our hearts, we were 
 too young in the country to find pleasure in the 
 revelry of drunken men, or in that still greater 
 bane of California life the gaming table. How 
 well I could remember the look of grateful pride 
 with which mother had glanced around at us on 
 the last Christmas, and the kiss of that little sister 
 as she bid me to "be a good boy and not stay longer 
 than a year." And then there was pshaw. They 
 tell me she weighs TWO HUNDRED POUNDS and is 
 the mother of eight children children which 
 ought to be mine. 
 
 But the hostess of the Miners' Home had no 
 idea of letting the occasion pass by unobserved, so 
 the minute the last straggler had finished his sup- 
 
THE MILK PAN 1 7 
 
 per and the table was cleared away, Me., the cook, 
 appeared, bringing in a huge pannikin of egg-nog. 
 There was no refusing a bumper to "many happy 
 returns" when presented by the fair hands of Mrs. 
 Grayson, herself, so we lined up alongside the long 
 table and only waited for the ladling-out process 
 to be completed to join in the toast. Just as Me. 
 was filling the landlady's own glass, a hurried step 
 came to the door which opened and a miner en- 
 tered. He was one of two who lived and mined 
 on "Sucker Gulch," more than a mile distant 
 with his partner I had formed a slight acquaint- 
 ance when they were in town on some of their 
 trading visits. His forehead was wet with perspira- 
 tion although the night was cold and his 
 breathing was short and heavy, as though he had 
 been hurrying. 
 
 "Just in time, Mr. Styles," said the widow, who 
 appeared to know him. "We were about to drink 
 to Christmas eve; here, take this glass and I will 
 get another." 
 
 He shook his head and motioned back the prof- 
 fered glass with his hand. "I have no time to 
 drink, or talk," he said, when he had partly recov- 
 ered breath. "Ike is pretty badly hurt, and I have 
 come to have some of the boys go for the doctor." 
 
I 8 THE MILK PAN 
 
 "Hurt?" "How?" "When?" "Where?" 
 These questions came in a quick succession as we 
 crowded around the newcomer. 
 
 "By a blast; just at dark. There was a big 
 boulder that lay across the gulch square in our 
 way. We thought we could shatter it enough by 
 one blast, so that it could be moved. Ike was tamp- 
 ing the charge when it went off, somehow, and 
 knocked him over. I thought him dead, at the 
 first, but he only seems to be badly bruised. I got 
 him to the cabin, but I fear he will be blind." 
 
 A murmur of pity ran around the room, then a 
 moment's silence. Mrs. Grayson was the first to 
 speak. 
 
 "Well, one of you must go for the doctor. 
 There's my pony in the stable for whoever wants 
 him. Ride him fast as he'll go till you get to lone, 
 but let him take it easy coming back." 
 
 "I'll go," said a lank Hoosier, to whom we had 
 given the name of "Scraggy." "I reckon I know 
 that road pretty well, and will get over the ground 
 about as fast as any of you." 
 
 "Thank you," said Styles. "Now, who of you 
 will go up to the cabin with me?" 
 
 "I will." "And I. "And I," spoke a dozen 
 voices at once. Quick as quiet was a little restored, 
 I spoke to Styles. 
 
THE MILK PAN 19 
 
 "Choose any of us you may prefer, Mr. Styles. 
 We are all willing to be of any assistance to you 
 in this trouble, if we can." 
 
 "Well," he said, reflectively, "I guess you had 
 better go with me. I've heard him speak of you 
 once or twice, and you won't seem so much like a 
 stranger to him. I guess you and I can take care 
 of him tonight, and after the doctor has seen him 
 we will know what's got to be done, and if we need 
 any more help, we will call on these boys then. 
 Now, if you please, we'll be off, for I had to leave 
 him alone while I came down. There's no one 
 working on the gulch but us two." 
 
 Alone, in his agony. There was, indeed, no 
 time to be lost in returning. Perhaps, even now, 
 in the delirium of pain, he might be trying to grope 
 his way along the rocky path or be lost among the 
 gulches. It took but a minute for me to throw 
 some loose blankets over my shoulder and we 
 started as rapidly as the darkness would permit, 
 up the creek. It was but a rough trail by daylight, 
 winding along the steep mountain side, and in the 
 night it was anything but a pleasure trip. But, 
 making the best time we could, inside of half an 
 hour we reached the cabin on Sucker Gulch. 
 
 To our delight we found he had not left the 
 house, but was lying in the bunk where his partner 
 had laid him. He had been up, it seemed, and had 
 
20 THE MILK PAN 
 
 brought the water bucket to his bedside and had 
 wet a towel and put it over his face to relieve the 
 intense pain. He did not want anything, he said, 
 in answer to our inquiries, but would we build a 
 fire, it was cold and so very, very dark. 
 
 Styles and I had lighted a candle when we first 
 went in. We looked at each other and each read 
 the other's thoughts without a word. 
 
 I persuaded Styles, who was pretty well tired 
 out to go to bed and let me keep watch until morn- 
 ing. So all through that long, dreary night I sat 
 by the fireside, listening to the wandering fancies 
 which were conjured up by his fevered brain, put- 
 ting in a word of comfort and hope in the more 
 lucid moments, and praying oh, how earnest, 
 that daylight and the doctor would come. Well, 
 the longest night must have an end and at last it 
 came the cold, gray dawn of Christmas morning, 
 but a sorrowful Christmas it was to poor Ike 
 Marston. 
 
 There was never music sounded sweeter to my 
 ears than did the sound of the clatter of horses 5 
 feet on the frozen ground, as soon after daylight 
 the doctor and Scraggy came galloping up. The 
 widow's pony had given out at lone, but 
 Scraggy had, somehow, impressed another into 
 service so as to guide the doctor on the return trip. 
 After a moment's conversation with me the doctor 
 
THE MILK PAN 21 
 
 went into the house and to Ike's bedside. Styles, 
 aroused by the noise of their coming, turned out 
 and stirring the fire into a cheerful blaze began 
 preparations for breakfast. Scraggy and I sat 
 down on a bench outside and conversed in low 
 tones until the doctor came out, then looked in- 
 quiringly at him. He shook his head ominously. 
 
 "It's too soon to say with certainty, but I fear he 
 will never see again. Who is to stay with him?" 
 
 I could not tell him that, thought the boys would 
 take turns. 
 
 "It would be better for him if a couple of you 
 would take the whole duty, it will not be for long. 
 Better that than a change of nurses, I have found. 
 Suppose you and his partner do it until I come 
 again ? I will leave the lotions and directions with 
 you now." 
 
 I promised what he required and took the medi- 
 cines he had brought along with him. 
 
 "I shall come up again day after tomorrow, if 
 I can get away ; there is considerable sickness about 
 lone, now; and it keeps me hustling. Follow the 
 directions I have written down and it will be al- 
 most as good as if I stayed here myself. That 
 coffee smells rather inviting and my night rides 
 makes me feel wolfish." 
 
 We entered the cabin, where we found Styles 
 had breakfast ready, to which we sat down. The 
 
22 THE MILK PAN 
 
 doctor and Scraggy then took their leave and, after 
 having told Styles what the doctor had said to me 
 and giving him the written directions, I went to 
 bed. It was afternoon when I awoke, several of 
 the boys from Cedarville were there, having come 
 up to see how the sufferer was getting along and 
 to offer their friendly offices. I told them what the 
 arrangements were and after receiving a message 
 for my partners not to expect me for some days, 
 they left for home. 
 
 At night my vigil recommenced. I had given 
 him some strong opiates, under the influence of 
 which he had become more quiet. I was sitting, 
 reading by the fire, when he started me with the 
 question : 
 
 u What does the doctor think about it?" 
 
 It was asked so unexpectedly that I was at a loss 
 what to say. He waited a moment then added : 
 
 "There's not much hope that I will have my 
 sight again, is there?" 
 
 I felt it would be cruel to give him hopes which 
 I felt could never be realized, so I answered, "I 
 am afraid not." 
 
 "So I thought, and have thought from the first. 
 It's always best to look square at things as they 
 are. Where's Styles?" 
 
 "Sleeping." 
 
THE MILK PAN 23 
 
 u So I thought, for I have not heard him moving 
 about for some time. Now, my friend, you must 
 write a letter for me." 
 
 "Now?" 
 
 "Yes, now. You'll find pens and ink on the 
 shelf above the fireplace. There's wafers and 
 paper in my valise behind the pork barrel. I want 
 it sent to Drytown tomorrow, to meet that express 
 and catch the steamer." 
 
 I found the things where he had indicated and, 
 drawing close to his bedside, prepared to write as 
 he might dictate. It was some time before he 
 spoke again, and when he did, his voice was 
 tremulous and broken. 
 
 "Oh, God; this is the hardest of all; and yet it 
 
 must be done. Write, if you please " And 
 
 taking the words as they fell from his lips, I wrote 
 as follows: 
 
 Alice Do not start on the journey we have spoken of. 
 I am blind hopelessly blind for life from an accident 
 while mining. I cannot ask you to share a life which must 
 henceforth be a burden to myself and to all who may try 
 to befriend me. Let what has passed between us be as 
 nothing, and my earnest prayer will be that you may yet 
 be happy with one who will love you and strive to be all 
 to you that I would have been. 
 
 Farewell, Alice, dear Alice, forever. 
 
 ISAAC MARSTON. 
 
24 THE MILK PAN 
 
 I sealed the letter and directed it as he told me, 
 to "Miss Alice Fenwick, Rome, New York." 
 
 I knew too well what was passing in his mind, 
 so made no comment, though I could not but ap- 
 prove of what he had done. We remained for an 
 hour or more in silence, ere he spoke again : 
 
 "It's pretty rough, Sandy, to have everything 
 swept from me at one blow. The light has not 
 gone out of my eyes, alone ; there is a deeper dark- 
 ness in my heart." 
 
 "You have done wisely and unselfishly, Ike," 
 said I. "It would have been selfish and inconsid- 
 erate in you to have done otherwise, but why this 
 haste? I think, if it had been my own case, I 
 should have waited a while to see if there would 
 not be at least a partial restoration of sight and be 
 governed accordingly. But you, of course, are 
 in a better position to judge." 
 
 "She was coming out to join me soon," was Ike's 
 reply, "and if I gave myself time to think, I might 
 cherish unfounded hopes until it would be too late 
 to write to her. No, it's better as it is." 
 
 He turned his face from me and said no more. 
 After that for many days he answered only in 
 monosyllables when spoken to and at times I was 
 fearful that Reason would be driven from her 
 throne. But under the care of Doctor Sexton, who 
 acted the part of the physician, and the friend as 
 
THE MILK PAN 25 
 
 well, he soon began to improve in general health, 
 and by the time January was half gone, was able 
 to go out and sit in the warm sunshine. And at 
 last, one bright afternoon the widow's pony was 
 brought up, he was placed upon her back and 
 Styles and I took him down to the Home. 
 
 There he was a welcome guest and as there was 
 always some one around who could be company for 
 him and minister to his simple wants, we went back 
 to our places in the mines again. Those of the 
 boys who had cabins of their own would drop in 
 to see him and often take him away for days at a 
 time, to visit with them at their homes. And so 
 the last month of winter was passing away, and 
 the bright, warm sunshine and swelling buds be- 
 tokened the coming of spring. 
 
 WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 If there was a day in the calendar which was 
 looked forward to with greater expectation, and 
 which in its coming was greeted with a greater 
 reverence than any other, it was "Express Day." 
 Once a week did that redoubtable day arrive, and 
 sure as Friday came, the two grey horses, with the 
 little covered wagon would drive up to the store, 
 deposit its little load of treasures and then, on to 
 its final destination, six miles distant. Our ex- 
 press, having sundry commissions to execute along 
 
26 THE MILK PAN 
 
 the route, was somewhat erratic in point of time, 
 sometimes happening along right away after din- 
 ner and at others it would not put in an appear- 
 ance until late in the afternoon. 
 
 On the particular Friday of which I am writing, 
 our company was on the lookout for returns from 
 some quartz which we had sent to Sacramento to 
 be assayed, and consequently, the arrival of the 
 express was looked for with unusual interest by us. 
 So I had not gone with the boys to work, as usual, 
 but waited to see the expressman in person and 
 obtain all the particulars. We were sitting outside 
 the store on some empty boxes, when the wagon 
 appeared in sight, descending the hill, across a 
 little ravine. 
 
 At the first glance we saw that the wagon con- 
 tained a lady passenger. As this was something 
 which had never before occurred, we were, of 
 course, decidedly interested. Who was she? 
 Where should she be going? It could not be a 
 friend of Mrs. Grayson, for that lady had said 
 nothing of expecting one. Perhaps she was go- 
 ing on to the Indian Diggings. Our speculations 
 were only cut short when the wagon stopped in 
 front of the store and the driver, after assisting 
 his passenger to alight, pulled out a large travel- 
 ing trunk and set it by the door. The trader had 
 
THE MILK PAN 27 
 
 already gone in with the letter bag and was busy 
 sorting out those for our place, so he turned to me. 
 
 " Where is that man stopping who got blinded 
 last winter? This lady is a friend of his." 
 
 "Marston went up to the 'Forty NinerY yes- 
 terday," said I. "I believe he intends stopping 
 with him a few days." 
 
 "Where does the gentleman you speak of live?" 
 said the lady. I turned to the questioner as she 
 spoke and saw that she was a fair-haired girl of, 
 perhaps, twenty years, rather slight in figure and 
 while she was not one who would be called beauti- 
 ful, was yet possessed of that pleasant, womanly 
 expression of countenance which is more attractive 
 than mere physical beauty can ever be. "Is it far 
 from here?" she added. 
 
 "Nearly a mile," I answered. "But, if you wish 
 I can go up and have Marston come down." 
 
 "Thank you, no; but if you will direct me how 
 to go I will go and find him, myself." 
 
 "That I cannot well do; the trail branches sev- 
 eral times and even if you found the house, there 
 might be no one at home. They are probably at 
 work, now, and he may be in the claim with him. 
 If you can wait a few minutes I will go with you." 
 
 She thanked me and nodded and hurriedly des- 
 patching my business with the expressman, we 
 started. There was but little opportunity for con- 
 
28 THE MILK PAN 
 
 versation as she followed in my steps along the 
 narrow, winding mountain path, so the journey 
 was made in silence. We soon reached the little 
 flat where there was a cluster of cabins, one of 
 which belonged to the Forty Niner, and I 
 judged by the blue smoke from the chimney that 
 some one was inside. So, without further ado I 
 stepped up to the door and knocked. 
 
 It was Ike's voice that bade me come in and I 
 saw that at its tones my companion started and 
 trembled. I pushed open the door and stepped 
 inside. A ruddy fire of oak coals was glowing in 
 the fireplace and he had drawn a little, rude, home- 
 made rocking chair to the hearth and was sitting 
 there, alone. Evidently he had moved the chair a 
 little round at the sound of our approach, and sat 
 with the poor, sightless eyes turned to the light of 
 the open door. All this I took in at a glance. 
 
 "I have brought a lady to see you, Ike," said I. 
 
 "A lady," he exclaimed, wonderingly. "A lady 
 to see me?" 
 
 "Oh, Isaac." It was my companion who spoke. 
 He leaped from the chair as if electrified. 
 
 "My God," he exclaimed; "am I dreaming? 
 Am I mad? Or is that Alice's voice?" 
 
 Pale and trembling, she had leaned against the 
 rough post of the door for support. She spoke 
 
THE MILK PAN 29 
 
 again: "No, Isaac, you are not dreaming, for I 
 am here." 
 
 "Oh-h-h Alice." There was a world of agony 
 in those two words. "Alice, Alice; why have you 
 come?" 
 
 Only a moment did she pause, as if to gather 
 strength. Then she walked steadily and firmly to 
 where he sat and kneeling by the low chair looked 
 up into his face. 
 
 "To be to you all you would have been to me, 
 if this misfortune had fallen on me as it has upon 
 you. To be your companion, your comforter, 
 your wife. Once you sought me from all the 
 world and gave me the love of your heart. 
 Now, though all the world may fall away from 
 you, yet I will still be true." 
 
 I had managed to reach the door while she was 
 saying this, and closing it behind me, left them to 
 themselves. I don't know which was happiest, Ike, 
 or myself, at this sudden lifting of the clouds 
 which was to pour such a golden flood of sunshine 
 into the darkness of his life. I really believe I 
 was on the point of climbing into a scrub oak and 
 giving a few yells to properly show my delight, 
 when I saw the Forty Niner coming. So I went 
 to meet him and briefly told him what had hap- 
 pened. 
 
30 THE MILK PAN 
 
 "Well, God bless her; she's a brave gal," said 
 he, when I had concluded. "Pity all wimmen's 
 naturs ain't cast in the same mould. If they were, 
 I wouldn't be prowlin' round this thievin' country 
 today. Reckon it's better, though, as it is. We 
 learn to 'predate a true woman when we see one." 
 
 "You speak as if you had had a rough experi- 
 ence with the sex." 
 
 "Sorter. I sot to one onct till I thought I had 
 her, dead sure. Fust thing I knowed I was 
 flopped for a feller that had less sense but more 
 dollars than I. It sorter upsets a feller's idees 
 about wimmen to be sarved in that way, and then it 
 takes one like this yer one to get 'em in the right 
 channel agin." 
 
 I did not feel at all inclined to combat his phil- 
 osophy, so we walked on in silence. 
 
 "Well," said Goodman (that was his name), 
 "I reckon they had better go down with you to the 
 Home. I've got no place for the gal to bunk in, 
 and nat'rally they'll want to be together as much 
 as they can. Mother Grayson can rout that cub 
 of her'n out into the big room among you fellers 
 an' let the gal have his bed, 'till we can see what's 
 to be done. I'd go down with you, but I've got a 
 loaf sot to risin' an' must tend to that." 
 
 We entered the cabin where I presented the 
 Forty-niner to Alice. They had already come to 
 
THE MILK PAN 31 
 
 the same conclusion we had and were only waiting 
 for my return to start, as it was nearly sunset. 
 With a few parting words to Goodman, who prom- 
 ised to be down in the evening, we started and 
 reached the Home before dark. Mrs. Grayson 
 had a small clapboard addition built on to the 
 back part of the main building, where she and her 
 son, a lad of twelve or fourteen, ate and slept by 
 themselves. There was a little fireplace, two beds, 
 a lounge and a rocking chair oh, it was a cozy lit- 
 tle place. I took Ike and Alice there, brought 
 down the trunk from the store and left them in the 
 care of Mrs. Grayson. 
 
 Of course, the arrival of Alice was the great 
 subject of conversation at the long supper table. 
 Ike and Alice ate in the widow's room, and at sup- 
 per and afterwards, I had to tell all I knew about 
 it over and over again. Rough voices joined in 
 praising her unselfish devotion and many and fer- 
 vent were the wishes that went up for their future 
 welfare. After a while I left the crowd, and went 
 into where they were. She had opened the trunk 
 and was exhibiting some of its contents to the ad- 
 miring eyes of Mrs. Grayson, while Ike sat in 
 front of the little fire a perfect picture of content- 
 ment. I sat down by him and we entered into 
 conversation when there was a tap at the door and 
 the Forty-niner entered. 
 
32 THE MILK PAN 
 
 "Well, got here all right, I see," said he, rub- 
 bing his hands, cheerfully. "Evenin', Mrs. Gray- 
 son. No, thank you; I won't sit down jest now. 
 I've come arter Sandy thar, to go to the miners' 
 
 meetin.' 
 
 "What's the meeting for?" inquired Ike. 
 "Some trouble over claims?" 
 
 "No, no; no trouble. Something about work- 
 ing claims, I b'lieve. It's better to have things 
 fixed up, you know, so there'll be no trouble. But 
 what's that thing you've got in your lap?" 
 
 "This?" said Ike, raising it up. "Why, this is 
 a milk-pan." 
 
 "So it is," said the Forty-niner, looking closer. 
 "Whar did that thing come from?" 
 
 "I brought it," said Alice, taking the question 
 to herself. "Isaac wrote me how the miners 
 worked and how at night they washed their gold 
 in a tin pan. I was washing that pan one day and 
 I told mother I was going to bring it with me for 
 Isaac to wash his gold in. When the letter came, 
 telling of his misfortune it was half filled with 
 papers of flower seeds and other trifles. So I just 
 set it in the trunk and brought it along." 
 
 "Well, you'd better keep it as a sort of keep- 
 sake," said the Forty-niner, "it would never be 
 much a'count as a minin' pan. Lord bless yer in- 
 nocent heart, that rim would be more crookeder 
 
THE MILK PAN 33 
 
 ner a dog's hind leg afore he'd rattle out one pan 
 of bedrock. Puts me in mind, though, of some of 
 the things fellers would invent in Ameriky an' 
 bring out here to work in the diggin's. Thar was 
 one like a churn. Shovel in the dirt, then pour in 
 water. Slosh it round an' the gold settles to the 
 bottom. Pour off the mud an' thar's yer money. 
 Haw, haw, haw." 
 
 Mr. Goodman was so immensely pleased at his 
 recollections of the inventive geniuses, that he 
 quite forgot about the miners' meeting. So I jog- 
 ged his memory on that point and with a promise 
 to be back soon, we started. 
 
 It did not take us long to get through with the 
 business and bring us back again. The trunk was 
 closed and put away and Mrs. Grayson and Jas- 
 per were in the big room among the boarders, 
 while Ike and Alice sat side by side in front of the 
 fire. Goodman and I took seats at either side. 
 
 "You must have lost no time in comin' arter you 
 heard what had happened," said the Forty-niner, 
 suddenly addressing Alice. 
 
 "The next day but one," she replied. "I 
 thought there was no time to lose." 
 
 "True as preachin,' ' said Goodman. "But 
 you're a brave gal for all that. 'Tain't every one 
 would a showed your grit." 
 
34 THE MILK PAN 
 
 "Perhaps not," she answered, quietly. "But 
 would you have had me do otherwise?" 
 
 "Not by a d d d by any means." I 
 rather think Mr. Forty-niner came pretty near for- 
 getting himself just then. In a moment he re- 
 sumed: "That brings me to a question I want to 
 ax you an' you must pardon me for axin' it, as I 
 have a good reason. When are you-er-a goin' to 
 be-er-a, married?" 
 
 "Is that all?" asked Alice, smiling. "Well, I 
 don't mind telling you, though it's a great secret. 
 If there is a clergyman in the place, I am ready 
 
 now." 
 
 "Bully for you," roared the Forty-niner, ap- 
 parently much relieved by her straight- forward 
 answer. "The fact is, Miss Alice, I'll tell yer. I 
 was Cheerman at the miners' meetin' tonight, and 
 we got to talkin' of you an' Ike, here, an' what a 
 true, brave gal you are. All the boys are friends 
 of Ike an' of you, too, though you don't know 
 them nor they you. So, they sorter deppertized me 
 as the Cheerman, to ax you if you'd as lief have it 
 come off in the big room, so's they can all be thar." 
 
 "You have been such good friends to Isaac in 
 his trouble, that I can refuse you nothing. Is 
 there a clergyman living here?" 
 
 "No, not right in town; thar's one livin' on 
 Spanish Creek, over the divide. He's minin' now, 
 
THE MILK PAN 35 
 
 but I reckon that makes no difference. We can 
 send Jasper for him in the mornin', tomorrer you 
 know, will be Washin'ton's Birthday an' you 
 couldn't pick a better day if you had the year to 
 choose from." 
 
 "Let it be as you wish," said Alice. ''Isaac, I 
 know, will be willing, for we were talking of 
 nearly the same thing when you came in." 
 
 "All right, then. I'll tell the boys to be on 
 hand tomorrer evenin'." And leaving the couple to 
 themselves, we joined the crowd in the big room. 
 And when Ike joined us an hour later, many and 
 fervent were the congratulations from his old 
 mining friends. 
 
 lie******* 
 
 "Well, I do wonder! If the Higgins boys have 
 not gone to work this morning ! I think if I had as 
 good a claim as they have, I'd try and keep 
 Washington's Birthday. And they're Americans, 
 too. Some people want to get rich too fast." 
 
 Mrs. Grayson seemed so indignant at the lack 
 of patriotism in the Higginses that I had to tell her 
 that my own company was also going to work. 
 
 "You are, hey? And I declare if there ain't 
 John Walton getting his pan. Why, it looks as if 
 you were all going to work as usual." 
 
 "Guess you're about right, Mrs. Grayson; we've 
 got a smart fit on." 
 
36 THE MILK PAN 
 
 "Oh, you have, hey? Tomorrow will be Sun- 
 day, and you can work then, if your smart fit lasts. 
 Well, you miners are the queerest set," and our 
 landlady bounced off to the kitchen to pour her 
 sorrows into the sympathizing ears of the cook. 
 
 If the truth must be told, the fact was that our 
 hostess, albeit a good, kind-hearted woman as ever 
 lived, had a hankering fondness for the head of 
 liberty, as portrayed upon the face of the "al- 
 mighty dollar," and loved to see that emblem 
 stacked up in her drawer. No doubt the good 
 lady had made a mental calculation of the quan- 
 tity of dust she would take in in exchange for "hot 
 toddies," "port sangarees," cigars and other trifles 
 which this unlooked for proceeding on the part of 
 the miners in going to work, instead of "laying 
 off" as expected, had upset entirely. Under the 
 circumstances, I think our landlady was a very ill- 
 used woman, in which opinion, I have no doubt 
 my readers will agree with me. 
 
 But if Mrs. Grayson had reason to complain 
 that there was no demand that day for drinkables, 
 she had certainly no cause for complaint in regard 
 to the eating department. For, at the long sup- 
 per table (which was not set till a late hour) , not 
 only the regular boarders but all the miners in the 
 neighborhood were present. They had evidently 
 come in direct from their claims, as every company 
 
THE MILK PAN 37 
 
 brought the company gold pan, containing the 
 day's work, with them. These pans were put up 
 on the long shelf by the fireplace, and the boys 
 proceeded to make ready for the coming occasion. 
 Their preparations were not extensive nor did they 
 take much time a new blue or red shirt from the 
 store and a fresh pair of overalls, or pants was the 
 extent. 
 
 When the supper was all finished the long table 
 was partly taken up and a smaller one brought in 
 from the widow's room. On it were placed a 
 couple of candles, the widow's Bible and, odd 
 enough it looked there, too, Alice's milk-pan. And 
 now they came ; Ike and Alice, the widow and Mr. 
 Styles. The clergyman was in waiting and, step- 
 ping forward, after a few remarks appropriate 
 to the occasion, pronounced the words which made 
 them husband and wife. As he retired, the Forty- 
 niner rose and drawing his stool up to the little 
 table, checked with a motion of his hand the ap- 
 plause which was beginning to be heard. 
 
 "Boys," said he, "it is now nearly nine o'clock, 
 the time to which the miners' meetin' last night 
 adjourned. As Cheerman of that meetin' I call 
 you to order." 
 
 Then there was instant silence. 
 
 "I propose now, in this yer business we have in 
 hand, that we begin down the creek an' foller the 
 
38 THE MILK PAN 
 
 lead up. So many as thinks that way say * aye.* 
 Tother side, W " 
 
 A growl of "ayes" came from all parts of the 
 room. 
 
 "Very good, that's settled. We're ready to hear 
 from the boys on the Secret Ravine." 
 
 This was the company of our whilom friend, 
 Scraggy. Without a word that worthy raised his 
 long length from the bench on which he was re- 
 clining, selected the company pan from the array 
 of pans on the shelf, held it over the fire a mo- 
 ment, shook it until the last particle of the gold 
 was loosened, then stepping up to the little table 
 poured its contents into the little milk pan. 
 
 "Very good," said the Forty-niner, peering in. 
 "Them fellers what struck them diggin's were sen- 
 sible in keepin' it to themselves. The Higgins 
 Brothers." 
 
 The eldest of the brothers took their pan and, 
 going through the same procedure, added its con- 
 tents to the other. They had the name of having 
 the best claim in the neighborhood. 
 
 "Better yet," said the Chairman. "You fellers 
 have got two ounce diggin's onless you're saltin' 
 'em on yerselves. Grub Gulch." 
 
 This was my company. One of my partners 
 took our pan and added its contents to the grow- 
 
THE MILK PAN 39 
 
 ing pile. The Forty-niner had his comment to 
 make, of course. 
 
 "Powerful good grub you fellers can have if it 
 pungles that a way. Tarheel Flat." 
 
 And so the call went on, until every company in 
 the camp (including Goodman's own) had been 
 called and each pan emptied into the little milk pan 
 on the table. Alice sat and looked wonderingly 
 on, but Mrs. Grayson (who had not been let into 
 the secret for fear she would be tempted to give a 
 hint) , I think, mistrusted something from the mo- 
 ment we got her to get the pan from Alice. 
 
 When the last pan was emptied and the bottom 
 of the little milk pan thickly covered with the shin- 
 ing, yellow dust, the Forty-niner arose, and taking 
 it, advanced to where the newly-married pair were 
 sitting. "This," said he, presenting the pan to 
 Alice, "is a token of our respect and admiration of 
 true womanly love and of the friendship we feel 
 for your husband. The doctor has told some of us 
 that latterly he has some hopes that your husband's 
 sight may be partly restored if he is able to place 
 himself under the care of some of them doctor 
 chaps down at the Bay. We agreed last night to 
 take a day which might have been spent in idle- 
 ness, or pYaps wuss, and give what we made for 
 the purpose of takin' our part of the burden on one 
 of our number. What has happened to him in the 
 
40 THE MILK PAN 
 
 mines may happen to me, or to any of us, tomorrer. 
 An' we have given our mite as he would have given 
 his, if one of us had been in his place an' he in 
 
 ours." 
 
 He spoke with a sort of rude eloquence which 
 affected us all. Ike tried vainly to say something, 
 and poor Alice ! She put her handkerchief to her 
 eyes and for the first time her fortitude seemed 
 to desert her. 
 
 "We're a rough lot, us miners here in the moun- 
 tains; an' p'r'aps it is jest as well not to look too 
 close into our lives at all times. But in a case of 
 this kind we know our duty to each other an' 
 gen'rally we do it. An' if you run short, mind you, 
 jest let us know, an' we'll send down another day's 
 work, if we have to do it on the Fou'th of July." 
 
 A round of applause greeted his words. Alice 
 arose and, taking the pan from Goodman's hands, 
 said in a broken voice : 
 
 "We thank you, sir; and we thank the generous 
 men who, with you, have done this kind act. We 
 will not pain you by hesitating or refusing to accept 
 that which you have so generously given. And 
 whether by its aid or not we can succeed in bring- 
 ing light to my husband's eyes, we shall none the 
 less hold your thoughtful kindness in grateful 
 memory." 
 
THE MILK PAN 4! 
 
 Ike had got on his feet and was again trying to 
 say something. 
 
 "Never mind, old feller," said the Forty-niner, 
 "we all know what you want to say. Give us a 
 shake of the hand, instead." And, grabbing his 
 hand he gave it such a grip as a bear might have 
 done, while the boys crowded around to offer their 
 congratulations. 
 
 The contents of the pan when cleaned and 
 weighed, amounted to over fifteen hundred dollars. 
 The next Express bore Ike and Alice away to the 
 Bay City and for years I heard nothing of them. 
 Early in March, news reached us of the discovery 
 of new mines on the Scott River of extraordinary 
 richness coarse chunks often found on the surface 
 of the ground. The rush to the Scott River began, 
 taking nearly all of us away, many of us leaving 
 better claims than we ever after owned. Years 
 later I saw one of the wiser miners who had stayed 
 behind and from him learned that Ike had so far 
 recovered his sight that he was able to walk about 
 anywhere unaided and to do some light work, 
 though he could not read. They had made one 
 trip to the "Home," but those they hoped to see 
 were scattered throughout the State and it was only 
 with the widow Grayson and her son they could 
 talk over the story of the MILK PAN. 
 
THE NEW LEAF 
 
 "Take another nip, Jack, before you go." 
 
 It was "Poker Jim" who extended the invitation 
 and his words were addressed to "Whisky Jack." 
 
 "I don't mind if I do, Jim," said Jack, as he 
 staggered to the bar. "It's the last, though, for a 
 year. I turn over a new leaf tomorrow. I don't 
 want you fellers to ask me to drink again, after to- 
 night. Tomorrow is the beginning of the New 
 Year, and I am going to turn over a new leaf." 
 
 It was rather pleasant to hear Jack say that he 
 was going to turn over a new leaf. For the leaf of 
 the past year and the leaves of too, too many pre- 
 vious years were so blackened and blotted and 
 smeared and blurred, that even the most hardened 
 one could find no pleasure in turning over the 
 pages. Hence, it was pleasant to know that Jack 
 was going to turn over a new leaf in other words, 
 lead a different life from the one he had been lead- 
 ing. The worst of the matter was the fear that 
 Jack would not stick to his good resolution but fall 
 back into the old rut after a struggle which never 
 lasted over a couple of weeks, and generally ended 
 in that many days. "It's my last drink for a year," 
 
44 THE NEW LEAF 
 
 continued Jack, as he poured into the glass a goodly 
 portion of the liquor, his fondness for which had 
 given him his sobriquet of "Whisky Jack." "Yes," 
 he continued, in maudlin tones, "I've done the 
 worst tonight I ever hie did, an' I'm going to 
 quit for a year." 
 
 "What have you done so bad tonight, Jack?" 
 asked the bartender with a grin on his face. 
 
 "Done," repeated Jack. "Spent every cent on 
 whisky an' poker, I had. That I've done many a 
 time, but t-night's too tough. It was money Agnes 
 made by washing, and the children panned out 
 along the gulch. She gave it to me as I came away, 
 to buy some little traps for the children for tomor- 
 row, as they had nothing for Christmas, and now 
 the last cent is gone." 
 
 "Is that a fact, Jack?" asked Poker Jim. 
 
 "Yes, it is a fact, and that's why I say this time's 
 too tough." He fumbled in the breast pocket of 
 his gray shirt and laid a rumpled paper on the bar. 
 "There's a list of the things I was to get; I have 
 not one of them." 
 
 "Won't you catch it, Jack, when you get home?" 
 
 "Catch it?" said Jack, with an effort at drunken 
 dignity. "Catch it?" he repeated. "Ah, if I only 
 did catch it ! If I caught it a hundred times ! If I 
 caught it a thousand times, I would feel better over 
 it than to be met with the patient look which greets 
 
THE NEW LEAF 45 
 
 me every time I go wrong. I've read of the men 
 who went crazy and who cut their throats to escape 
 the nagging of a woman's tongue. But if I should 
 catch it I'll feel a mighty sight better, for I would 
 know it was deserved." 
 
 The company looked significantly at one an- 
 other, and Shorty Black observed to the man next 
 him, that u jack wasn't so full but he knew how to 
 talk sense." 
 
 "But that's neither here nor there," continued 
 Jack, returning to the maudlin strain. "Not one 
 of these things hie will I take with me. Let's 
 see. Stockings for baby. Bbots for Johnnie. Doll for 
 Carrie. Four pounds of sugar. Pound of raisins 
 for, for I can't make it out. Who's it for, 
 Tom?" 
 
 "Pudding, I guess," said the barkeeper, taking 
 the paper from John's hand. "But there's no use, 
 Jack, in crying over spilt milk. You're going to 
 turn over a new leaf tomorrow, ain't he, Jim?" 
 
 "That's what he says," answered Poker Jim, 
 
 "and d if I don't try and help him. Come, 
 
 Jack, it's getting late and my way is the same as 
 your'n, as far as the branch, you know. Sit down 
 a few minutes and we'll go home." 
 
 "Yes; got all my money, and that's all you want 
 of me," growled Jack. But he suffered himself to 
 be led unresistingly to a chair where he soon fell 
 
46 THE NEW LEAF 
 
 into a drowsy stupor, from which he was only 
 awakened by Poker Jim, who told him it was time 
 for them to go. 
 
 The keen December air which greeted them as 
 they passed the threshold, did more to restore him 
 to himself than his hour of sodden sleep had done. 
 By the time they reached the "branch" and crossed 
 it on the foot-log bridge, John had so far recov- 
 ered his sobriety as to be left safely to make his way 
 home alone, which he did. A short distance far- 
 ther he came to a dilapidated gate, which he opened 
 and passed through the little field to which the gate 
 had afforded entrance, made his way toward the 
 house in the back, from one of whose windows a 
 dim light shone on the path he traveled. It was 
 his own house, and reaching the door he opened it 
 and entered at once. 
 
 The light was given by a single candle which sat 
 upon the table of what, in their prosperous days 
 had been their "best room." It was their best 
 room yet, so far as that was concerned, but it had 
 little of the appearance it bore when John and 
 Agnes Chambers sat in it during the first two or 
 three years of their wedded life. The piano had 
 long since gone to satisfy the importunities of an 
 unyielding creditor, other articles of furniture had 
 been parted with, one by one, until there was but 
 little left but the bare walls. But, fortunately, 
 
THE NEW LEAF 47 
 
 John, in one of his more provident moments had 
 declared a homestead upon the patch of fertile land 
 upon which the house was situated, and this Agnes 
 Chambers refused to let be sold. Gentle and will- 
 ing in all things else, to that proposition she always 
 turned a deaf ear. 
 
 She was sitting by the little table as he entered 
 with an eager, expectant look upon her face, which 
 gave place to one of bitter disappointment when 
 she saw that he came empty-handed, and in such 
 condition. 
 
 "You are late, John," she said, trying to speak 
 cheerfully. 
 
 "Late, Agnes, and that ain't the worst of it. I've 
 made a fool of myself tonight, again. But I am 
 determined it shall happen no more." 
 
 "You have told me that often, John," said 
 Agnes, sorrowfully. "And once I believed you." 
 
 Still patient under her load of trouble. Oh, hus- 
 bands and wives! The happiness of married life 
 comes from mutual concessions; from a perhaps 
 constant restraint of the disposition to criticise. 
 We are only human, and humanity is not free from 
 faults. Let us remember that "A soft answer turn- 
 eth away wrath, but grievous words stir up conten- 
 tions." Yet it sometimes happens that patience ir 
 long, too long, suffering. 
 
48 THE NEW LEAF 
 
 "And you don't believe me now, do you, Ag. ?" 
 
 "I wish I could say I do, John. But " and 
 
 she laid her hand on his arm, "I still hope, John. 
 I was to blame; I should have gone myself. I 
 should not have placed you in the way of tempta- 
 tion." 
 
 Wise little woman, you spoke more wisely than 
 perhaps you knew. Did you get your inspiration 
 for those last words from the w r ords of prayer you 
 were taught to lisp in infancy. Our Savior said, 
 "Lead us not into temptation," and the two lids of 
 the Bible contain nothing more fraught with mean- 
 ing. How many are there of those men who hold 
 their heads high, rejoicing in the confidence the 
 world holds in their integrity, who might have 
 fallen, had they but been exposed to the tempta- 
 tions which beset their less fortunate fellow man. 
 How many of the gentler sex, who turn with loath- 
 ing and scorn from the sight of an erring sister, 
 who pause to think that they were not exposed to 
 the same temptation, and thank God's mercy for it. 
 
 The warmth of the room began by this time to 
 counteract the previous good effect of the crisp out- 
 side air, and none could be quicker to detect its ac- 
 tion than Agnes. Rising from her seat she took his 
 arm and led him unresisting toward his bed. "We'll 
 talk of this tomorrow, husband," was all she said, 
 
THE NEW LEAF 49 
 
 and in a few moments Jack was oblivious to new 
 leaves, temptations and all other mundane things. 
 
 When Jack awoke he lay for some time trying to 
 recall what had happened the night before. Gradu- 
 ally it came to him his start to "town," as the 
 little cluster of houses at "The Forks" was called, 
 the game of poker and its results. He had but lit- 
 tle remembrance of the vow he had registered, but 
 was in just that repentant frame of mind to regis- 
 ter one now. But, unfortunately, these good reso- 
 lutions, when made while recovering from the evil 
 consequences of a big spree, or while smarting un- 
 der the losses just sustained at the gaming table, 
 seldom amount to much. When all the bad conse- 
 quences of the spree have passed away, the poor 
 wretch thinks he can now take just one drink and 
 stop, and if he thinks of his depleted purse since the 
 last gambling scrape, it gradually develops into a 
 desire to try the game once more and if he can get 
 "even" then quit for good. And in either case it 
 generally works him back into the old rut. 
 
 The house was so preturnaturally still that Jack 
 wondered. Generally, if Agnes was not stirring, 
 some one of the five children was, but now all was 
 silent. He raised up in bed and saw that his boots 
 alone had been taken off before retiring but that 
 was no unusual occurrence, and in fact, made the 
 operation of dressing much easier. 
 
50 THE NEW LEAF 
 
 Jack arose unsteadily, put on his boots and 
 started to find out why no one was stirring at this 
 late hour. His boots clanking on the bare floors as 
 he went from room to room, was the only sound 
 which fell upon his ear. From one room to an- 
 other he went, but no sign of life greeted his vis- 
 ion. His wife and children were gone. 
 
 "She has left me 1" moaned Jack, throwing him- 
 self into the last rocking chair left. "Left me and 
 taken the children with her! I can't blame her, 
 but I must have her back, and I'll do better. If I 
 can only get to talk with her, I know she'll come. 
 Now for a little breakfast and away I'll go." 
 
 The "little breakfast," however, was a thing 
 more easily talked of than obtained. Not a scrap 
 of food of any kind could be found in the house. 
 The flour barrel had been scraped and shook until 
 not even a dust remained and Jack put on his hat 
 and started for the store at The Forks to get some 
 hard bread and coffee. 
 
 The sound of voices fell upon his ears as he 
 reached the foot-log at the Branch, and stepping 
 aside a little from the path he saw Poker Jim and 
 his partners repairing an old reservoir. He thought 
 that perhaps he could get breakfast at their cabin, 
 so he went to where they were working. But to 
 his greeting of "Good morning," none of them 
 paid any attention. Thinking he had not been 
 
THE NEW LEAF 51 
 
 heard, he repeated it with no better success, indeed, 
 they all seemed so oblivious of his presence that 
 one who was using a handspike came near knock- 
 ing him over with it while at work. 
 
 John walked moodily down to the store at The 
 Forks, and entered. It looked very much the same 
 as it had when he entered it the evening before, 
 except that at that early hour of the day the idlers 
 were few. The barkeeper of the night before was 
 the storekeeper of today, for then, as in many 
 places now, your country store could supply every- 
 thing needed for the miner's daily use, and 
 whisky was deemed an essential, both by the bot- 
 tle and the glass. John stepped up to where he 
 was standing, asked him to weigh him a few pounds 
 of hard bread and give him some ground coffee 
 besides. But to his surprise he got no answer. 
 
 "Hard bread, crackers, anything of that kind," 
 said John, reaching over the counter to be nearer 
 the storekeeper. But he got no answer again. 
 
 "Well, this is tough," said John to himself as he 
 turned away. "They've got all my money, and 
 last night they got all that Agnes and the boys 
 earned, and now I am not worth even refusing. I 
 wish old Smiley were keeping store here now." 
 And John walked out of the door to find materials 
 for breakfast in some other quarter. 
 
52 THE NEW LEAF 
 
 The Smiley, whose presence John had so de- 
 voutly wished for, was an old gentleman who 
 opened the first store at The Forks. It was a little 
 log affair with a clapboard addition wherein the 
 proprietor boarded himself. Smiley made lots of 
 money in that log store, which kept all the essen- 
 tials of mining life as well as its more pretentious 
 after neighbors did. But with the diminution of 
 profits caused by competition, Smiley sold out his 
 stock and sought new fields. Report said he had 
 been killed afterward by Indians in Arizona, but 
 nothing authentic was heard. 
 
 Great, therefore, was John's astonishment when 
 on stepping out of the door he saw Smiley's old 
 store in apparently full blast. Empty boxes and 
 barrels were ranged outside, where the old-time 
 loungers were wont to congregate and swap lies 
 about their "diggings," the old grindstone, on 
 which he had so often sharpened his axe was in its 
 usual place, and even old "Sus" the pack mule, 
 stood before the door with aparejo on, evidently 
 being prepared for a trip up the canyon. He could 
 scarcely believe his eyes, but greater still was his 
 surprise, when, on crossing the street, who should 
 he see but old Smiley himself. 
 
 u Why, Tom," he gasped, u who would have 
 thought of seeing you here. I was just wishing 
 you were back among us." 
 
THE NEW LEAF 53 
 
 u And here I am," responded Tom, "now what 
 can I do for you?" 
 
 "I want a little grub, and haven't a cent to pay 
 for it." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Chambers, what do you wish? 
 You were a very good customer of mine years ago, 
 and the time has come now for me to remember it. 
 We are now helping each other." 
 
 John (as we prefer to call him now) indicated 
 his desires, and, in a few moments was on his way 
 back with provisions enough to last him several 
 days. After his rebuff by Poker Jim's crowd in 
 the morning, he did not care to go near to them 
 again, but soon after passing the path which turned 
 off to their claim he heard the sound of a pick be- 
 low the trail and wondered, who, besides himself 
 was compelled to work New Year's Day, except 
 upon a work of necessity, such as putting in the re- 
 pairs to the reservoir was. His curiosity in that 
 line was so great that he laid down his burden and 
 went in the direction of the sound. If his wonder 
 was excited when he saw Smiley's store in full blast 
 at The Forks, it was tenfold more so when he saw 
 who it was that was using the pick. 
 
 "Why, Job, can I believe my eyes? I thought 
 you were buried six months ago." 
 
 Job grinned a ghastly grin. "That's what was 
 done, Jack, you helped bury me then, as some of 
 
54 THE NEW LEAF 
 
 the other fellows will help bury you tomorrow. 
 Unless they conclude to chuck you into the ground 
 today." 
 
 Jack could hardly keep his breath. "What are 
 you talking of, Job. Men ain't buried until they're 
 dead." 
 
 "That's what's the matter with you, Jack," an- 
 swered Jake, with another ghastly grin. "I came 
 by Poker Jim's cabin this morning and heard them 
 talking. They said you died last night." 
 
 "Did Poker Jim's crowd talk to you?" 
 
 "Talk! They could neither see nor hear me, 
 though I could both see and hear them." 
 
 Jack still looked unconvinced, so Job felt it his 
 duty to enlighten him farther. 
 
 "I didn't believe in purgatory, Jack, when you 
 and I played draw-poker together, but we're in it 
 now, or something like it. We've got to stay here 
 till we pay all the old grub bill we owed, that we 
 could have paid if we hadn't drank so much whisky 
 and played poker and seven-up." 
 
 "Then what's old Smiley doing here? He didn't 
 play poker." 
 
 "That's the only redeeming feature in the whole 
 business," said Job, with another grin. "Smiley 
 got our money that we spent for poker and the 
 like, and he's got to stay here till he makes it all 
 up by honest trade. But be off with you ; I don't 
 
THE NEW LEAF 55 
 
 care about staying in this fix longer than I can 
 help." 
 
 And Job turned away and began digging at the 
 bank again. 
 
 John made his way homeward without further 
 adventure. There he discussed a dinner of the 
 provisions he brought from Smiley's store, and 
 then, concluding that if he was dead (and he now 
 believed himself to be), there was no use looking 
 for Agnes and the babies now, he went to the place 
 where he had done his last work. Then he re- 
 flected that if those diggings did not pay any bet- 
 ter than they had done in life, it would take him an 
 eternity to work out the delinquent grub bills, so 
 shouldered his pick and shovel and started out to 
 prospect. 
 
 Days were passed and no diggings. Once or 
 twice he had seen and talked with Job, but that in- 
 dividual, having nearly completed his task, was 
 too eagerly looking forward to the time when he 
 should make a change from his present condition, 
 to one better or worse, as the case might be, and 
 not disposed to be unduly sociable. How much 
 longer John would have continued on in the peri- 
 patetic course which seemed to have no ending, we 
 cannot imagine, if a lucky thought had not come 
 to him. He remembered what Agnes had told him 
 of the children "panning out" at some place, and as 
 
56 THE NEW LEAF 
 
 they were gone from him forever, he resolved to 
 find the place if he could. Peering along the 
 creek bank under the garden fence he saw a spot 
 where recently work had been done, and in a mo- 
 ment he was bailing out the prospect hole and 
 looking eagerly for any colors which would show 
 themselves as the water was lowered, in case the 
 ground was good. And goodly was the sight that 
 met his eyes. Small colors showed themselves 
 throughout the depth of the bank of gravel, while 
 in the corner toward the house, the receding waters 
 had washed bare several inches of the end of a 
 goodly specimen. Dropping his bucket he grabbed 
 for it, but, alas, it slipped out of its place and 
 sprung to the opposite side of the hole. He turned 
 and reached for it again with no better success, for 
 it slipped from under his hand as easily as a timid 
 cat can and was back in its place again as before. 
 He reached for it with both hands, lost his balance 
 and found himself out of bed and sprawling on 
 the floor. 
 
 "Why, John, John," exclaimed Agnes. "What 
 in the world is the matter with you this morning? 
 Here you've been thrashing around and throwing 
 your arms about as if you were fighting somebody 
 in your sleep. I hope to goodness you were not 
 quarreling last night." 
 
THE NEW LEAF 57 
 
 John sat up on the floor and looked stupidly 
 around him. "You here, Agnes," he said, the re- 
 membrance of his dream still upon him. "I 
 thought you were gone." 
 
 "Gone, John; where would I go to. No, when 
 I said 'so long as we both shall live,' I meant every 
 word. But, come now, husband, and get your 
 breakfast. George and Arthur have eaten theirs 
 and gone off with their new knives to cut the wil- 
 lows off their claim." 
 
 Just then there was a clatter of boots on the un- 
 carpeted floor, and little Johnnie appeared, full of 
 the pride and dignity and making all the noise, a 
 boy with his first pair of boots can make. John 
 turned aghast. "I wonder if the whole dern thing 
 is a dream," he thought, "or if I am dead, and that 
 is the ghost of a pair of boots I see?" But he got 
 up and followed Agnes into the kitchen. 
 
 "See my pretty doll, papa," cried the little girl. 
 "See what nice curls." 
 
 "Who gave it to you?" asked John, for want of 
 something else to say. 
 
 "We thought it Santa Claus, who forgot us 
 Christmas, but Mamma told us you were Santa 
 Claus. Thank you so much, papa." 
 
 John turned a bewildering look upon his wife. 
 "I thought it was cruel in you John, to deceive me 
 
58 THE NEW LEAF 
 
 so, but now I see you were too much in liquor to 
 know what you were saying," she said, in response. 
 
 "This is all a riddle to me," cried John. "What 
 was I cruel about?" 
 
 "Telling me you had spent all the money gam- 
 bling again, and brought nothing home for that rea- 
 son. And when Mr. Noble came and brought all 
 the things, and told me you had forgotten them, 
 and as he thought I would want them for today he 
 had brought 
 
 "Noble? What Jim Noble; Poker Jim? Do 
 you tell me he came here last night?" 
 
 "He did and brought with him everything I 
 sent for, and some walnuts for the children, 
 besides, in this basket. And I declare, here is the list 
 I gave you ; and the bill and two dollars change out 
 of the dust. And here's a note for you, John." 
 
 John took the note and walked to the window 
 for better light to read it. It was short, but to the 
 point : 
 
 Keep your good intention, Chambers. We'll all help you. 
 
 JAMES NOBLE. 
 
 "They're better men than I am, Agnes, if they 
 are gamblers. I told the truth. I had spent every 
 cent and they have given it back to you, in the shape 
 of what you sent me for. Now hear me, Agnes. 
 I've now quit gambling not for a month, nor a 
 
THE NEW LEAF 59 
 
 year, but forever. And no liquor ever passes my 
 lips again until I know that I am my own master. 
 
 She looked into his eyes, and a moment after, 
 with her head pillowed on his bosom, she said, be- 
 tween her joyous sobs: "I believe you again, 
 John." 
 
 This all happened many years ago, and in the 
 light of after years we can truthfully say that John 
 kept his word religiously. For a time he had a 
 struggle both with temptation and poverty, but he 
 stood up bravely against both. It pleases us to 
 add, that one day after thinking of his dream he 
 went down to the place where the boys had been 
 panning and his practiced eye told him that the lit- 
 tle fellows had unwittingly stumbled on the lost 
 lead of Bear Gulch and that it probably ran right 
 under his house. Agnes had refused to part with 
 the homestead, but when she saw the use the money 
 would be put to, she raised no objections to its be- 
 ing washed away. With the proceeds realized they 
 soon wiped out the delinquent grub bills (which, 
 thanks to Agnes' prudence were not heavy), 
 which had been such a bugbear to John ever since 
 his famous dream, and in time got a better home in 
 a part of the country where John's shortcomings 
 were unknown. 
 
 John and Agnes are now a comfortable old 
 couple, though as usual, the children have grown 
 
60 THE NEW LEAF 
 
 and gone out into the world to build up homes for 
 themselves. They are all good children, though 1 
 think George would have gone into a bad way if his 
 father had not told him how things were going or 
 at home once before he turned the new leaf. 
 
THE THANKSGIVING 
 DINNER 
 
 The winter of 1850-5 1 had been a dry one. Not 
 that there was then the need of great ditches and 
 reservoirs as now, but the experience of the year pre- 
 vious had led the miners to expect that the flood- 
 gates of heaven would again be opened, and they 
 made their preparations accordingly. Not much 
 water was required to wash the dirt shoveled into a 
 "long torn," and still less when the more primitive 
 rocker was used. But the expectations of the 
 miners has been wrought up to the belief that when 
 winter fairly set in, the streams to which they re- 
 sorted for summer diggings would be kept swollen 
 by the floods of winter and that they must change 
 base for the little ravines of the mountains. The 
 " Forty-niners" were all going to do so, and the 
 new-comers thought they could not go amiss if 
 they followed the example set by such high author- 
 ity. Therefore when the frosty nights and gather- 
 ing clouds began to foretell the approach of the 
 "rainy season," there was a general breakup of the 
 summer camps to prepare for winter diggings. 
 
62 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 The amount of preparation deemed necessary 
 for weathering the winter through was very limited. 
 Pine logs for the cabin were to be had for the cut- 
 ting, red mud to "chink" the interstices was under 
 our feet, and the branching sugar pines furnished 
 "shakes" readily to the hand even of the unskilled 
 "river." But the winter for which preparation was 
 made and whose advent was so longingly desired, 
 did not come. December, January and February 
 passed, but the sun rode in a cloudless sky, or the 
 few clouds which occasionally gathered and threat- 
 ened refused to part with their moisture. On each 
 little ravine where gold had been found by pros- 
 pecting, piles of dry dirt, thrown up by the toilers, 
 awaited the rainfall before its golden treasures 
 could be set free. But it was not until winter had 
 fairly passed and March appeared that storms great 
 enough to start the gulches came. By which time 
 thousands of the waiting miners had left the "dry 
 diggings" in disgust, leaving their piles of rich earth 
 to be washed up by whoever chose. We have had 
 dry winters since, but none have been so complete a 
 failure as that of 1850-51. 
 
 The miners scattered in search of other gold- 
 fields, some to one part and some to others. Scott 
 River drew men from the far southern counties 
 with its stories of fabulous riches. Gold Bluff and 
 other distant localities led others away for it was 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 63 
 
 a peculiarity of the honest miner of the early day 
 that a report concerning rich, new diggings was 
 entitled to credence just in proportion to its distance 
 away. The idea of changing places of abode and 
 going only a few miles was a thing not to be tol- 
 erated. However, we were not so badly affected as 
 were our neighbors, as we had claims which held us 
 for awhile. But our time came, too, in its due 
 season. Reports came of the discovery of a new 
 camp, where both gold and water were plenty. It 
 had been found by the Indians, who had already 
 panned out great sums. There was only one bad 
 feature about the story, which was that this new 
 placer was situated at only twenty miles distance. 
 However, we could go there in one day and back 
 the next, so we borrowed a couple of caballos and 
 away we went. 
 
 We found the picture had been a little overdrawn 
 in reference to the abundance of water, but it was 
 otherwise substantially correct. Scores of Indians 
 were there with knives, scrapers and pans digging 
 the soft bedrock in the shallow gulches, and each 
 with from an ounce to a pound of gold-dust tied up 
 in little rags. We gave the place the name of In- 
 dian Diggings, and if we mistake not it retains that 
 cognomen till this day. There was only the water 
 from springs to wash with and the springs were 
 rapidly failing; but such mines would pay to hold 
 
64 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 on to. It is needless for me to add that the new 
 camp was quickly populated by miners, some of 
 whom came from points hundreds of miles away, 
 and that all the available ground was taken up. 
 The Indians were summarily driven off; then, as 
 now, an Indian had no rights which one of the Cau- 
 casian race felt bound to respect. It was done with- 
 out any trouble; perhaps if the water in the springs 
 had not been failing so rapidly, it might not have 
 been accomplished without some bloodshed. 
 
 As nothing much could be done during the sum- 
 mer months, we divided our party; some remaining 
 to look out for the claims, while the others went 
 down to the Consumnes River to turn the bed of 
 that stream and put in the summer. I was one of 
 those who stayed at the Indian Diggings. Before 
 dividing our forces, we rolled up the logs of a cabin, 
 which it was to be a part of my business to finish up 
 and get in readiness for the next winter. We built 
 it on a litle flat close to one of the live springs, 
 amidst a grove of tall, slender spruce whose boughs 
 locked and interlaced far above. We knew that we 
 would have to watch the claims or we would have 
 trouble when the season for mining arrived, for 
 the fame of Indian Diggings had spread abroad, 
 and the arrival and departure of bands of prospect- 
 ing miners was a thing of daily occurrence; and 
 although but little of real work could be done, 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 65 
 
 others were making similar preparations. Brought 
 together from so many different quarters, those who 
 had secured claims and were holding them knew 
 little of each other as yet, but with that spirit of 
 frankness so general among the toilers of that early 
 day, we were soon upon terms of acquaintance with 
 most of those around us. Water to work with there 
 was none, but every company was doing more or less 
 prospecting, and from the occasional pans of dirt 
 brought to the spring or taken to the little creek and 
 washed, we felt assured that our camp would be 
 a good one when the winter rains should fairly set 
 in. Among the arrivals which succeeded ours was 
 one which, after a time, excited my curiosity. He 
 was a young man, as indeed were the majority of 
 those present, but though he watched keenly the 
 various prospecting companies and seemed desirous 
 of knowing what their success was, he made no 
 effort to obtain a claim for himself. This surprised 
 us the more, as from some words he dropped while 
 at our camp, we knew that he had been in the mines 
 in '49, done well in them and made a visit to the 
 East. We were choke-full of enthusiasm then and 
 could not understand how a man who had made 
 money mining and knew how to mine would ever 
 want to do anything else. We finally concluded 
 him to be a gambler, waiting only until the boys 
 
66 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 got "flush," to ply his vocation in which wise we 
 were mistaken. 
 
 Armfield, for such was his name, remained at the 
 camp for a week or ten days, then went away as un- 
 expectedly as he came. I thought that was the 
 last we would see of him, but was mistaken 
 again. He was gone a week or so when, 
 coming home from the claim one evening, 
 the sight of a new white tent greeted me. 
 When I had cooked and eaten supper the proprietor 
 of the tent came over and it proved to be Armfield. 
 He had been to Sacramento in the meanwhile, after 
 some tools, he told me. He said that he had come 
 to the conclusion that Indian Diggings would be a 
 pretty lively camp for some years, and he thought 
 of building a boarding house. Would I care if it 
 were built near us. I put his mind at ease on that 
 point and we separated. 
 
 Armfield was up with the sun and showed that 
 he was no laggard as far as work was concerned. 
 There were plenty of sugar pines close at hand, and, 
 with the assistance of a couple of idle miners, it was 
 not long before the establishment began to assume 
 shape. In the meantime a great intimacy had 
 grown up between Armfield and myself, brought 
 about by a sort of clannish feeling much more com- 
 mon in the early days of the mines than now. We 
 found that we came from the same State to this, 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 67 
 
 and that of itself was a passport to each other's 
 friendship. To meet a man from one's own State, 
 though it might be from its most distant corner as 
 compared to our own home, seemed like meeting a 
 neighbor. Armfield and I were from near the same 
 locality; we knew some of the same people, and 
 nothing more was needed. 
 
 The new house rapidly approached completion, 
 and our little cabin was overshadowed by its com- 
 paratively huge dimensions. As the finishing 
 touches were being put to it, I noticed that Armfield 
 had one of the rooms fitted up with extra care, and 
 that in the last load from Sacramento were carpets 
 and other things that did not go to the ordinary 
 make-up of a miner's boarding house. I rallied 
 Armfield on his odd notion (as I supposed) and 
 asked him if he expected to have lady boarders, that 
 he was taking so much pains. 
 
 "Not boarders exactly," said Armfield. "I'd 
 have told you before, but thought to take you by 
 surprise. That's to be my wife's room." 
 
 "Your wife!" said I; "you never mentioned 
 that you were married." 
 
 "No more I ain't," retorted Armfield, "but that's 
 no sign I won't be. The fact is, my girl is on her 
 way here now; I sent for her to come before I made 
 up my mind to build, and I expect they are coming 
 down the Humboldt now. I at first thought Fd 
 
68 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 mine, but it's better to have a steady place to stop in, 
 so I built this boarding house. They left the Mis- 
 souri River two months ago, and if they have fair 
 luck they will be here in a week or two." 
 
 "Does she know where to find you?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; I looked out for that. Bill Simpson 
 went out to the 'Sink' to buy stock there's money 
 in that speculation and he'll tell them right where 
 I am." 
 
 "Are her folks coming, too?" 
 
 "No, none of 'em. One of the neighbors is mov- 
 ing out with his wife, and she thought she would 
 rather come that way than over the Isthmus. Our 
 Western folks, you know, are a little scary about 
 salt water." 
 
 The idea of settling down for life in California 
 was a novel one to me then, as much so as one would 
 now be of going anywhere else. But it was none of 
 my kettle of fish, though I couldn't help wondering 
 how a woman would like to rough it the way one 
 would have to. I had thus far seen but one woman 
 in the mines. 
 
 The hot days of summer were nearly gone when 
 the new hotel was completed and ready for business. 
 It was not the only business house in the Diggings ; 
 a store, a saloon and another hotel were under way 
 before many days. Though no one was yet at work, 
 money was plenty and business was thriving, for 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 69 
 
 most of the claim owners had either gold-dust on 
 hand or could easily obtain enough for all necessary 
 expenses. So when Armfield invited the boys in 
 to help "open the house," there was a goodly at- 
 tendance of the red-shirted gentry, and the bar, 
 (that most essential adjunct of every place where 
 business of any kind was transacted) met with most 
 liberal patronage. Scattered among the throng 
 were a few fresh from "the States," the advance 
 guard of the immigration that was pouring over 
 the plains, while the fact that there was to be a 
 sort of "house warming" had drawn together 
 pretty much all the idlers in the camp. I was assist- 
 ing Armfield on the occasion and dispensing the 
 fluids with a liberal hand while the crowd, not to be 
 outdone in liberality, was putting them down as 
 fast as we put them up. 
 
 There was a break-up of the assemblage toward 
 midnight, except of those gathered around the 
 monte-banks, for those institutions were sure of 
 patronage whether the mines were worked or not. 
 I was about to go home, when a stranger came to 
 where I was standing, and, pointing to Armfield, 
 asked : 
 
 "How long has he been here?" 
 
 "Who, Armfield ?" said I ; "Oh ! it's between two 
 and three months." 
 
70 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 "Armfield?" repeated the stranger; "is that 
 what you call him?" 
 
 'That's his name," said I. 
 
 "Well, maybe it is, but he looks enough like 
 Bill Shively (Missouri Bill, we used to call him in 
 Colusa) to pass for his brother." 
 
 "This is not your man," said I. "I knew this 
 man's folks by reputation back in Illinois." 
 
 "Wall, p'raps I'm mistaken, but don't think it. 
 Lemme have a little whisky." 
 
 I passed the desired liquid to him and soon after 
 went away. It was late when I came around next 
 day and I found Armfield in the best of spirits. 
 
 "She'll be here in less than a week, Joe," was his 
 greeting. "They've got to Ragtown and will stop 
 a day or two to let the animals rest a little. That 
 desert, you know, is rough on stock. Bill Simpson 
 saw her and told her just what road to take to get 
 here. Stood the trip splendid, you bet. Won't I 
 be fixed, though?" 
 
 I gave him my congratulations as a matter of 
 course. 
 
 "I'm thinking, though, to go over and meet 'em 
 at Hangtown. There's no preacher, or squire, or 
 anything of that kind to splice us. Will you run 
 the concern until I get back?" 
 
 "Why, of course I will." 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 7 I 
 
 "I thought you would, and I'll take 'em by sur- 
 prise. Let's see. They're about Red Lake tonight 
 and tomorrow they'll cross the Sierras. Give 'em 
 three days more to reach Johnson's Ranch. If I 
 start from here Monday morning I'll catch them 
 there, so be ready for Monday." 
 
 The time would no doubt have passed slowly to 
 Armfield had he not found so much to do to fix up 
 that room. There was no end to the ways in which 
 he arranged the furniture and pictures, and when I 
 thought he could not find anything more to do, 
 back he would be, working as busy as a nailer. 
 But it was arranged at last even to his satisfaction. 
 
 Sunday morning I was on hand to take charge 
 of affairs while my friend made his preparation for 
 the journey. It was only twenty or twenty-five 
 miles through the mountains to the immigrant 
 road, but the country was innocent of anything 
 except pack trails, unless the traveler took the 
 wagon road towards Sacramento until it joined the 
 great thoroughfare used by the incoming immi- 
 gration. Sunday in the mines is always a busy day, 
 and in the state of society then it was much more 
 so than at the present time. All days were pretty 
 much alike to the delver in the mountains, and i' 
 the Sabbath was observed at all it was only by the 
 few who had not left the faith and traditions of 
 the old homestead behind them with the homestead 
 
72 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 itself. The operations of the miner alone were sus- 
 pended, all other branches of business seemed to go 
 ahead with greater energy than during the days of 
 labor. In truth Sunday was the day of the week 
 for the saloons, the hotels and the gambling houses. 
 As it was in other places, so it was in the goodly 
 mining town of Indian Diggings. 
 
 Toward evening, when the lengthening shadows 
 of the pines cast a grateful coolness over the 
 parched earth, a couple of horsemen rode slowly 
 down the hill and approached the camp. They 
 were well mounted, and as they reined up in front 
 of Armfield's door there was nothing in their ap- 
 pearance to attract unusual observation. To the 
 inquiries of one as to the chance for lodging and 
 a place for their horses, I told them they need go 
 no further, and taking the tired animals to a shed 
 which had been hastily erected for such uses, I 
 gave them a liberal supply of barley and went back 
 to the house. 
 
 The strangers soon made themselves at home, 
 and engaged in conversation with some of the 
 miners. They said nothing to either of us in re- 
 gard to the business on which they had come, nor 
 as to their destination. Armfield retired early, as 
 he wished to take an early start and reach Hang- 
 town by noon. I noticed that the two newcomers 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 73 
 
 kept close watch of all his movements, but thought 
 nothing of it at the time. 
 
 "Your partner leaves the night work to you I 
 see," said the elder of them, soon after Armfield 
 retired. 
 
 "He is not my partner," I answered, "I am only 
 taking his place for a day or two, while he is 
 away. He starts for Hangtown in the morning." 
 
 The strangers exchanged glances. "Why, that 
 is where we were going, and as he no doubt knows 
 the trail well, we had better go with him." 
 
 "You may have to ride faster than you care to," 
 said I. "Where there is a woman in the case a 
 man is not apt to let his horse nibble much grass by 
 the roadside." 
 
 "So there's a woman in the case, eh?" 
 
 "I believe so; coming over the plains, and he'll 
 meet her there." 
 
 My communication seemed to have a great effect 
 on the stranger. He walked uneasily up and down 
 the room and wound up by having a whispered 
 consultation with the man who came with him. 
 He came to me again. 
 
 "We may go over and may not; wake us up any- 
 way in time to go with him." 
 
 I promised to do so and soon after the games 
 stopped and the house was closed. When Armfield 
 arose he woke me up and I told him the request of 
 
74 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 the strangers. He went to where they had slept 
 and found them already stirring. 
 
 The cook had prepared an early breakfast, to 
 which Armfield and the strangers sat down while I 
 got the horses ready. They finished the meal and 
 rising from the table came to where I was and 
 asked for their bill. I told them the amount which 
 the one who seemed to be spokesman handed to me 
 and then turned to Armfield. 
 
 "I'm sorry to interrupt your plans, my friend, 
 but you can't go to Placerville today." 
 
 "Why not?" said Armfield, flashing. 
 
 "Because I have a bench warrant for your arrest 
 from Yuba County. You're wanted up there to an- 
 swer to an indictment." 
 
 "But," said I, speaking for the first time, for the 
 whole thing was so unexpected, that I hardly knew 
 what was being done. "Why not go with him to 
 Hangtown and have him held to answer? You are 
 not obliged, are you, to appear at Marysville at 
 once, if I understand the matter." 
 
 "The offense is not bailable," said the officer, 
 significantly. 
 
 Armfield turned pale as death. "Am I to under- 
 stand that I am charged with murder?" he asked^ 
 
 "That's what the indictment says: For the 
 murder of John Fielding, committed in the County 
 of Yuba, in December, 1849." 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 75 
 
 Armfield sprang up joyfully. "I was more than 
 one hundred miles away from Yuba at the time. I 
 never before heard of the man Fielding that I 
 know of, and know no more about it than a child." 
 
 "Prove that, and you're all right; but you will 
 have to show it to a jury, and not to me. All I 
 know is that I have a warrant for Bill Shively, alias 
 Charles Armfield, and shall execute it by taking 
 you to the Yuba jail. We've had track of you two 
 or three times, but lost it again. If you ain't the 
 man I hope you'll get clear, and if you are, you'll 
 have to swing for it. Now, if you've got any busi- 
 ness to fix up here do it at once and we will be off." 
 
 There was no such thing as fooling with an offi- 
 cer of the law and nothing remained to be done ex- 
 cept to do as he directed. It was evident to Arm- 
 field and myself that he was being taken for some 
 other person, and would probably have to suffer 
 some annoyance before he could prove who he 
 really was. He could not escape the trip to Marys- 
 ville ; that was certain. At that place he hoped that 
 the witnesses would see that the officers had got on 
 the wrong track and he would, of course, be at once 
 set at liberty. So, after giving me detailed instruc- 
 tions as to his business affairs and a confidential 
 message to her who had taken the long and toil- 
 some journey across the continent to share his for- 
 tunes, the three went away together. 
 
76 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 The news of Armfield's mishap spread through 
 the camp and excited considerable sensation. The 
 majority thought with me that he had been taken 
 for some one else, but there is always a class in every 
 community disposed to believe evil rather than 
 good of their fellows. But for the girl, there was 
 but one feeling, that of sorrow at the news which 
 would greet her upon her advent in the golden 
 land. So, when some four or five days after their 
 departure the white cover of an immigrant's wagon 
 was seen winding down the hill and approaching 
 the town, curiosity was on tiptoe to see the new- 
 comers, and what effect the tidings would have on 
 them. I hastened up the road to meet them as soon 
 as their approach was made known to me, but ill 
 news travels fast and they already knew all. 
 
 "This is a bad business, a bad business," said 
 the immigrant. "They'll hang him, won't they?" 
 
 I questioned him and found they had received 
 a very exaggerated account of the affair, as I might 
 have known. A story never loses by being told a 
 second time. I told him how it really was. 
 
 "Well, that sounds better, but the way we heard 
 it, it looked pretty black. But Hetty, there, she 
 wouldn't believe anything. She wanted to go right 
 on to Marysville or wherever he's been taken, quick 
 as she heard it. The trust these women have if 
 wonderful now." 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 77 
 
 I climbed into the wagon with the family and 
 Hetty and delivered the message that Armfield had 
 given me. It was to the effect that she was to take 
 possession of the part of the house he had fitted up 
 for her, and have her friend's wife stay with her 
 for company until his return, which he was confi- 
 dent would be soon. I represented to her that he 
 might be already free and it would be nonsense to 
 go where he was at the present time. It was set- 
 tled that all should be as he requested, and in a 
 short time the newcomers were safely domiciled 
 in the hotel. 
 
 In three or four days a letter came from Arm- 
 field, and matters began to look serious. Fielding, 
 the murdered man, had been a farmer and as such 
 employed hands to help him, but being of a peevish 
 disposition the men he hired seldom remained long 
 with him, but as soon as they earned a little money 
 took it and went on to the mines. Three or four 
 days before he was killed he employed a passing 
 man, who gave the name of Shively. Shively was 
 seen by one or two of the neighbors, but they 
 formed no acquaintance with him. One morning 
 Fielding was found in a dying condition, but he 
 lived long enough to tell those who found him that 
 his new man had struck him down, robbed and left 
 him for dead. The search that was made for 
 Shively was a fruitless one. Once he had been 
 
78 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 heard of in a distant camp on the headwaters of the 
 Feather River; then the report came that he had 
 been seen on a Panama steamer, going East. The 
 officers concluded he would escape their pursuit, 
 and had given it up, when they heard again that he 
 was at Indian Diggings under an assumed name. 
 This led to the arrest of Armfield, as I have de- 
 tailed, and the strange part of the story was that 
 those who had seen Shively during the short time 
 he was in Fielding's employ positively identified 
 Armfield as the man. 
 
 Hetty had received another letter of similar im- 
 port. I handed her the one I had received and she 
 read it eagerly. When she had finished she turned 
 to me. "We must go to Marysville," she said, 
 "Will you go?" 
 
 "If you wish, certainly." 
 
 "I do wish it; you believe him innocent, do you 
 not?" 
 
 "I do. A man who commits that crime and once 
 gets out of the State would hardly venture back 
 again, much less have a wife come to join him and 
 settle down." 
 
 "I should think it would be easy enough to prove 
 who he is, these people here knew him back home 
 and there are others who knew him when a boy." 
 
 "That's not the point, though. Any man can 
 change his name for the time being and that is what 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 79 
 
 they will claim he has done. We will have to find 
 the true criminal (which I fear is a hopeless task), 
 or find the men Charley was with at the time the 
 crime was committed. The express wagon goes in 
 the morning and will take us to Sacramento in one 
 day. From there we go on the steamboat and will 
 be in Marysville the next afternoon. 
 
 I need not detail the incidents of our journey, 
 nor of the meeting between Armfield and his be- 
 trothed. Leaving them together, I went to have 
 a talk with the legal gentleman who had been re- 
 tained for the defense. We had a long consulta- 
 tion and I . found his professional feelings were 
 thoroughly interested. 
 
 "It would be a plain case of mistaken identity," 
 he said, in conclusion, "were it not for one thing 
 which will be hard to prove. That is the where- 
 abouts of your friend at the time the crime was 
 committed. He tells me that they passed the win- 
 ter of that year in the Antoine Canyons; that him- 
 self and partner found a rich streak there in the 
 fall, kept the knowledge of it to themselves, packed 
 in their provisions quietly and went to work. The 
 first snowfall shut off all communication with the 
 outside, and for four months they saw no human 
 being except each other. They came out of the 
 canyon together, went East together and separated 
 in New York City to go to their respective homes. 
 
80 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 Snow, his partner, was a Rhode Island man, but 
 Armfield has forgotten his address." 
 
 "Was Snow a married man?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then he is more than likely to have come back 
 here. We'll put an advertisement in the Times and 
 Transcript that may bring us information of his 
 present locality." 
 
 "Do so," said the old lawyer. "Unless we can 
 find that man Snow, we have a bad case. The most 
 I can do for your friend now is to stave off the trial 
 while we search for him. Do you know," he 
 added, "that we have got to prove him not to be 
 the guilty party; that in the present state of public 
 feelings a verdict of acquittal that left doubts in 
 the minds of the populace might be his death war- 
 rant. There have been so many mockeries of jus- 
 tice called trials, within the past year that the peo- 
 ple become excited, take the law into their own 
 hands and hang the accused to the nearest tree? 
 Only last week they strung up a man at Quincy 
 against whom there was scarcely a particle of what 
 could be called 'legal evidence.' We must feel our 
 way as we go." 
 
 I knew the old lawyer told the truth, and I left 
 his office in no very cheerful frame of mind. Re- 
 turning to the jail I found Armfield and Hetty in 
 close conversation in the keeper's room. It was 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 8 1 
 
 evident that their interview during my absence had 
 been a painful one. 
 
 "Now, Joe, I'll tell you what we've planned, or 
 rather what she has planned, for I don't want her 
 to do it. But this girl has ciphered it out that we 
 are to be married at once." 
 
 "That's just what you might have expected," 
 said I. "But what then? You can't keep house 
 here, nor do I think you would be allowed even this 
 much liberty after today. This house is pretty well 
 watched, I can tell you." 
 
 "I was just coming to that. She'll go back with 
 you and run the house it's coming on that time of 
 year when it will pay if it ever does. All I've got 
 in the world is put in that house, and I'm in debt 
 besides. Money we must have to get me out of this 
 trouble, and lots of it, too." 
 
 I could see no better plan and soon left them to- 
 gether again. That evening the ceremony was per- 
 formed in the keeper's room in my presence and 
 that of two or three ladies of the young city who 
 had learned Hetty's story and were disposed to 
 give her all the comfort and encouragement in 
 their power. To me the marriage ceremony is al- 
 ways an impressive one, but there are none I can 
 recall in a life of fifty years more sad and solemn 
 of all such occasions it has been my fortune to wit- 
 ness, than on that September evening of 1851. 
 
82 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 The news of our return to the diggings brought 
 all the boys in to learn the result of our trip. It is 
 needless for me to say that the story of the wedding 
 at the jail, set off with all the imbellishments proper 
 to the occasion, elicited an unqualified expression of 
 approval. 
 
 'That's a girl worth tying to," was the expres- 
 sion of one and all. 
 
 Meanwhile the boarding house flourished, and 
 as the absent miners began to come in from their 
 river claims to make final preparations for the win- 
 ter, its business daily increased. Part of this might 
 have been due to the superior excellence of the 
 viands which graced the long table of the dining 
 room for Hetty and her immigrant friend pre- 
 sided over the culinary department but, looking 
 back through a vista of more than twenty-five 
 years, I incline to a belief that a desire to help the 
 young couple out was the dominant feeling which 
 actuated the motley assemblage of boarders at 
 "The Miners' Rest." 
 
 But if we were favored in one respect, we were 
 making very little headway in others. The adver- 
 tisement to ascertain the whereabouts of Snow had 
 been inserted in the papers and appeared in the 
 long list of "information wanted," which formed a 
 leading feature of the advertising of the day. Re- 
 sponses came, but they were unsatisfactory, and at 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 83 
 
 last came the crushing news that Snow had re- 
 turned to this State, joined a party of prospectors 
 going north, and was killed by the Indians in the 
 Pitt River Country. With this intelligence, the 
 prospect for a release for Charley Armfield seemed 
 distant indeed. 
 
 The rains of autumn had begun and all was life 
 and activity in the camp of Indian Diggings. Not 
 much water was required to run a rocker and 
 enough had fallen to start the little gulches to 
 work. The Indian Diggings began to feel the first 
 flush of prosperity and our business throve. The 
 express wagon increased the number of its trips to 
 accommodate the increase of business and we no 
 longer had to wait till the end of the week for our 
 letters from Sacramento. u The Miners* Rest" be- 
 came a sort of postoffice, to which all expecting let- 
 ters made their semi-weekly resort. 
 
 "Wish I was home for a week now," said one of 
 the boarders, a long, lean Yankee, after perusing 
 a letter he received. 
 
 "Why don't you wish for three months while 
 you're about it?" Put in another. "If you're 
 goin' to wish, wish for somethin'." 
 
 "Oh, a week 'ud do me. That 'ud carry me over 
 Thanksgiving, and that 'ud be all I'd want." 
 
 "What in thunder is Thanksgivin' ?" asked a son 
 of old "Pike," of me. 
 
84 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 "Thanksgiving ? Oh, that's a custom in vogue 
 down East. The Governor appoints a day for the 
 people of his State to observe. Some go to church 
 and observe in that way; others have a good din- 
 ner and take that means of showing themselves 
 grateful for the blessings of the year." 
 
 "Them last fellows are sensible," rejoined my 
 Missouri friend. "There is somewhat to be thank- 
 ful for if youVe got a good dinner. I vote we have 
 a ThanksgivinV 
 
 "It can't be did," said another, who was evi- 
 dently a stickler for trifles. "We ain't got no tur- 
 keys; besides the Guv'nor hain't sot any day for it." 
 
 "Turkey be hanged," responded the Missourian, 
 "I'll agree to furnish as fat a deer as can be found 
 twixt here and the Volcano, and that's better nor 
 turkey any day. We can be thankful whether the 
 Guv'nor tells us to or not." 
 
 The idea of holding a regular old-fashioned 
 Thanksgiving was received with high favor, es- 
 pecially by the New Englanders present. Although 
 Hetty felt little like entering into anything for the 
 social enjoyment it would bring, yet as a business 
 stroke, it promised well, and she readily agreed to 
 prepare the dinner for as many as chose to come. 
 
 In the crowds that came and went I saw many 
 old faces, men who had been on wild-goose chases 
 to distant localities, who had returned with a good 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 85 
 
 stock of experience, to settle down near the old 
 diggings again. Among them was one who had 
 crossed the plains in the same company with me, 
 but whom I had not seen since reaching the mines. 
 He was now located at Cedarville, six miles dis- 
 tant, and had come over to take a look at the now 
 somewhat famous camp. Our greeting was hearty. 
 
 "I want to get acquainted with the woman here 
 before I go back," said he, after we had talked over 
 everything we could think of. "We've come to 
 this spludge today more to give her a little lift than 
 anything else. We've heard about her trouble and 
 like her grit, you bet." 
 
 I told him to wait until the work of the day was 
 over and the wish should be gratified. By this 
 time the house was pretty well filled with miners, 
 many of them from a distance who had come over 
 to partake of their first Thanksgiving dinner in the 
 mines. 
 
 All things must have an ending and so did that 
 Thanksgiving Day. When the women folks had 
 got their work done for the day I went in with Sil- 
 verthorn and introduced him to Mrs. Armsfield as 
 an old friend whom the accident of mining life had 
 thus thrown into my presence so unexpectedly. 
 Leaving them together I returned to my place in 
 the bar room where the crowd was getting quite 
 
86 THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 
 
 jolly, and showering out the gold-dust in payment 
 for cigars and liquor with a liberal hand. 
 
 He remained in the room with the ladies for an 
 hour or more, and when he came out the boys were 
 breaking up and we went to talking again. He 
 had had a varied experience since we parted and 
 the narration of his adventures was interesting to 
 me. 
 
 "I saw one man," said he, "that I s'pose is kin 
 to these women folks. At least I judge so, for his 
 daguerreotype lays with others on the table in 
 there." 
 
 "What was his name?" I asked, carelessly. 
 
 "Well, I don't know as I ever heard his name. 
 He generally went by the name of 'Missouri Bill.' 
 A rough sort of fellow, too." 
 
 "You are mistaken, there. There are no daguer- 
 reotypes but those of her own folks. Where did 
 you know this 'Missouri Bill'?" 
 
 "Saw him last about three weeks ago, down in 
 Mariposa. And if that ain't his picture, it's that of 
 his twin brother, and I'll swear it." 
 
 I stepped hurriedly into the room, and selecting 
 Armfield's picture from the pile of daguerreotypes 
 from the pile handed it to him. "Is that your 
 man?" I asked. 
 
 "It is, except the rig. I never saw him in that 
 rig." 
 
THE THANKSGIVING DINNER 87 
 
 "That," said I, "is Charley Armfield; the pic- 
 ture was taken when he was East a year ago." 
 
 "Maybe you're right, but I could have sworn it 
 to be the same man." 
 
 Our readers need not be assured that with the 
 clue thus obtained we did not let the grass grow 
 under our feet. In less than two weeks Armfield 
 was set at liberty, and his place in the felon's cell 
 filled by the real culprit. I saw the two men to- 
 gether, and when I saw the strongly marked resem- 
 blance between them, especially when they were 
 dressed nearly alike in the mining clothes common 
 to all at that period, I did not wonder that those 
 who had only seen Shively casually during the few 
 days he worked for Fielding, should think that in 
 Armfield they saw the accused. I heard after- 
 ward that on his trial, this resemblance was dwelt 
 on until the jury refused to bring in a verdict of 
 "willful murder," but compromised on a lower 
 crime, which carried only imprisonment as the 
 penalty. 
 
 Charley took hold at "The Miners' Rest" and 
 ran it with great success for a year or two, while I 
 rejoined my partner in the claim. I have not seen 
 him now, for more than twenty years, but I doubt 
 if any of us will ever forget what results followed 
 our first Thanksgiving dinner in the mines. 
 
THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 A CHRISTMAS STORY 
 
 It was before her at last, in black and white, 
 the decree of the court with its official seal attached. 
 She was a free woman free in every sense of the 
 word. Free to resume the name she had borne 
 when a maiden; free to choose her own habitation 
 and mode of life; free, even, to contract a new alli- 
 ance, which should be severed, perhaps, as coldly 
 as had this been severed, and the words sweet and 
 solemn they had seemed to her at the time "what 
 God hath joined together let no man put asunder, 1 ' 
 be once more proven a mockery and a lie. 
 
 Yet it cannot be said that Mary Willard found 
 happiness, in any sense of the word, in her new- 
 found liberty. For with the decree and its seal 
 lying before her, she could not keep back the vis- 
 ions of the past which rose in her eyes, and would 
 fill their vista whether she would or no. In the 
 happy, happy years gone by, when, amid other 
 scenes and in other lands, she had first found reason 
 to believe herself beloved. In the days so well 
 remembered, when surrounded by the loving 
 friends of herself and her chosen husband, she had 
 
90 THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 spoken the words so freely and so gladly, which 
 then seemed to have bound her irrevocably to the 
 being at her side. In the years of later date, when 
 standing at the little bed of their only one, they had 
 together watched the fleeting of its spirit, and only 
 turned away at the last moment, when hope seemed 
 to have bidden farewell to their hearts forever, 
 each to find in the whispered words of the other the 
 bond of consolation which only the knowledge of 
 a common sorrow can give. In the still later years, 
 when the spirit of enterprise had sent her husband's 
 strong arm to delve among the mines and moun- 
 tains of the Golden State, and like the true, good 
 wife she then was, she had followed his fortunes. 
 Why should they come crowding upon her now, 
 mocking her in the hour of her apparent triumph? 
 We shall not undertake to say that she had been 
 wholly blameless, or wholly to blame for what oc- 
 curred. Between two fiery natures it needed but a 
 spark to kindle into flame passions which were too 
 proud to admit an acknowledgment of wrong, ex- 
 cept in the secret recesses of the heart. A lightly 
 spoken word, given swift currency by the ready 
 breath of scandal, was the seed which had borne 
 a plenteous harvest in the field of ruin to domestic 
 bliss. From this one starting point, others had 
 arisen and, when the final step was taken on the 
 
THE RESERVOIRS 9! 
 
 part of the wife, it had been met with no oppo- 
 sition. 
 
 The night before the day on which our story 
 opens had witnessed the closing of the opening 
 storm of winter. For days together the rains had 
 beaten down piteously on the parched earth, while 
 the cheerful patter, patter, on the roofs at night, 
 had carried joy to the hearts of the miners, to 
 whom its welcome sound had been strange for 
 many days. A clear, bright, sunny day, with the 
 air as soft and balmy as in springtime, though the 
 snow-capped summits of the mountains surround- 
 ing, from which the dark green of the clumps of fir 
 and pine stood out to relieve the eye from the daz- 
 zling brightness of the winter vestments, dispelled 
 such a thought. It was a day too bright and lovely 
 to be passed wholly indoors, and although she knew 
 the ground would be cold and damp beneath her 
 feet, yet a walk would serve to turn the current of 
 her thoughts, which would run into channels that 
 could not be controlled. 
 
 She had scarce passed the threshhold when she 
 saw an approaching visitor, and intuitively divined 
 that his business was with her, rather than with any 
 of those with whom she was making her tem- 
 porary home. She turned back, for she was in no 
 mood to seek a partner for her walk in the gentle- 
 man whose neatly trimmed whiskers and spotless 
 
92 THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 linen proclaimed him as one of the "ladies' men" 
 of the camp. The gentleman followed her in and 
 was not long in making his errand known. There 
 was to be a Christmas tree and a good time gener- 
 ally on Christmas eve, he said. Would Mrs. Wil- 
 lard honor him so far as to be his partner on that 
 occasion ? 
 
 "Of course she will," was the answer which 
 came from Mrs. Sanders, the woman of the house, 
 before Mary had time to make any answer. "She's 
 not agoing to stay mewed up here by herself on that 
 night, for we are all agoing. I'll answer for her, 
 for that." 
 
 "I don't know," said Mary, " as I will care to go 
 that evening." 
 
 "Well, I do. What on airth will keep you at 
 home ? 'Tain't as though you were not free to go 
 where you pleased, and stay as long as you like." 
 
 There was a sophistry about this that Mary did 
 not reply to. Still she did not say that she would 
 accept the invitation ; neither did she positively de- 
 cline, and when the gentleman took his departure 
 it was with the implied understanding that he 
 should call for her on the evening in question. 
 
 It was not an easy matter for Mary Willard to 
 make up her mind to court society in her present 
 mood of mind. For though the law of the land 
 had been invoked in her behalf, and its decision 
 
THE RESERVOIRS 93 
 
 had been to her justification, the proud spirit which 
 had upheld her in the presence of others and had 
 borne her through, thus far, in the solitude of her 
 own presence, gave way, and she now looked with 
 bitter regret at the last act, of her own seeking, 
 which had closed the door of reconciliation. How 
 would this news be received at home ? How could 
 the opinions of those she held most dear be brought 
 to justify her, as she had been justified by those 
 by whom she was surrounded? It would not be 
 done, she knew, for with them the marriage tie 
 was one not thoughtlessly to be assumed, nor lightly 
 to be shaken off. 
 
 The continued chatter of her landlady annoyed 
 her she wanted to be alone. Resuming the in- 
 terrupted walk, her feet strayed, almost against 
 her will, into the path leading into the flat where 
 the claim in which George Willard worked was 
 situated. Absorbed in her thoughts, she did not 
 notice this until she was aroused by the familiar 
 voice of one of his partners: 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Willard, are you lost?" 
 
 She started and looked up. 
 
 "Don't be scared; I ain't half as bad as I look. 
 Cutting blue bedrock, you know, don't add much to 
 a fellow's beauty." 
 
 "Is that what you are doing?" said Mary, glanc- 
 ing at his spattered appearance. 
 
94 THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 "Well, I should think it was, and has been for 
 the last three months. But there's an end of all 
 things, and there'll soon be one of that." 
 
 "George is with you?" she asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes; he's up the ditch just now, seeing if 
 there's danger of slides. I've just been up to shut 
 the reservoirs, and I look for him back any min- 
 ute. Sorry that you and him are two again, and 
 I guess he is, but everybody knows his own busi- 
 ness best." 
 
 Mary hastened to turn the conversation. "I 
 hope you'll do well," she said; "you've all worked 
 hard enough to deserve it." 
 
 "Well, that's so; but unfortunately success does 
 not always reward merit, when it's mining. You've 
 seen old Bill Sharp Whisky Bill, they call him. 
 He's never out of diggings. When he sticks his 
 pick in the ground, he's got a good claim. Dang 
 it, I'd rather have his luck than a license to steal. 
 But I must get to work," and he turned away. 
 
 "Mr. Sims," she called after him. He turned 
 around. "Please say nothing to to George of 
 having met me, will you?" 
 
 "Mum's the word, ma'am, if you wish it. I'll 
 not tell him you inquired for him, sartin. That I 
 take is what you mean. I'm sorry, though, you 
 can't come down and see the diggings as you used 
 to. Forty feet in the bedrock now, and timbers so 
 
THE RESERVOIRS 95 
 
 thick you couldn't drop a hat to the bottom of the 
 ditch. Good-bye." 
 
 He was off again and Mary was alone. And 
 which way to go she hardly knew. She did not 
 care to meet her husband that day, above all others, 
 and yet, let her go any way she would, they were 
 liable to meet. She went back to where the trail 
 forked, one branch leading to the reservoirs, the 
 other by the house from which she had come, and 
 which could be plainly seen from the junction. 
 There, catching sight of an approaching figure, she 
 hastily ran behind a thick clump of manzanitas and 
 waited until it should have gone by. 
 
 It was George, returning from the trip up the 
 ditch, of which Sims had spoken. It was the first 
 time she had seen him since the action had com- 
 menced, for from that time he had sedulously 
 avoided the chance of meeting her. He came 
 along, and from her secure point of observation 
 she watched him with eager eye. As he passed the 
 junction of the trails, he gave a quick glance 
 toward her residence, then moving further on 
 until the undergrowth concealed his form, gazed 
 long and earnestly over the tops of the low bushes 
 toward the spot where he believed her at that mo- 
 ment to be. Perhaps he thought to see her, if 
 but for a moment; but if so he was doomed to dis- 
 appoinment. As it was, unconscious of the gaze 
 
96 THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 fixed upon him, he turned and moved slowly and 
 sadly away. 
 
 Her first impulse was to call after his retreat- 
 ing form, but her tongue refused to do its office. 
 Watching him until he disappeared, she again 
 sought the path and went on why she knew not 
 in the direction of the reservoirs. And, indeed, it 
 seemed to her, that in all her movements that day 
 she was not governed by her own volition, but 
 guided by a will superior to her own. The reser- 
 voirs were three in number, nearly a quarter of a 
 mile from the claim they were used to work, on the 
 gently rising ground of a "blind" ravine. They 
 were located one above the other in such a way that 
 the water from the upper one would pass through 
 both the others when the gates were hoisted, and 
 the common way of using them had been to hoist 
 all the gates at once, and gauge the flow of water 
 from the lowest and largest of the three. Until 
 now the ditch had not afforded water to fill them 
 all, but the heavy rains of the past few days had 
 increased its volume greatly, and when she stepped 
 upon the bank the crystal stream was pouring 
 through the waste-ways of the upper two, and fill- 
 ing rapidly the one into which she looked. 
 
 How clear and bright the water looked that 
 mirrored back her form. It seemed to invite her 
 to that repose, within its depths, which earth denied 
 
THE RESERVOIRS 97 
 
 her. How strangely she felt today ; how her head 
 burned and throbbed. She could look for one mo- 
 ment in the limpid waters and see each pebble in 
 the gravelly bottom; then her head would swim 
 and all grow dark before her vision. 
 
 The thought crossed her mind, Why had she 
 come to this spot? Was it only to die? To be 
 found by him, perhaps, when the cold grasp of 
 death was laid upon her? She shuddered at the 
 thought, and moving cautiously to the edge of 
 the slowly rising water, dipped her handkerchief 
 down into it, and bathing her burning brow, found 
 in its icy coldness, some measure of relief. 
 
 But not altogether, for yet there was a dimness 
 of vision which had not passed away. For the 
 water, which had at first appeared so clear and 
 limpid in her sight, was now opaque and yellow, 
 rising rapidly, as if hungry for her, while the sound 
 of its rushing filled her ears. She hastened to 
 climb back up the embankment again, and then 
 she knew it was not a deception of the imagination, 
 but a reality that she saw. Softened by the heavy 
 rains, the embankment of the upper reservoir was 
 giving away, and the dissolving earth, through 
 which a channel, rapidly deepening and widening, 
 was cutting its way, was what gave the water be- 
 fore her its yellow tinge. She took in the conse- 
 quences at a glance. The breaking of the upper 
 
98 THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 reservoir would be followed, in turn, by that of 
 each of the others, when the combined waters of all 
 would sweep down to the creek in an angry tor- 
 rent, whose fury nothing could withstand. She 
 knew that if this torrent came upon George and his 
 partners unawares, while they were at work in the 
 deep and narrow bedrock cut of which Sims had 
 spoken, it would give them no chance whatever of 
 escape. Turning away, she stepped cautiously 
 down the bank, until she reached the beaten path, 
 down which she started with the speed of a fright- 
 ened deer, knowing well that life and death de- 
 pended upon her footsteps. 
 
 It seemed an age to her, although it was but a 
 few minutes before she stood where she could look 
 from the high, perpendicular banks down into the 
 claim. There was no one in sight, and she knew 
 she must go farther with her message of warning, 
 for the dull thud of the heavy picks, mingled in 
 with the sharper, measured clang of the sledge and 
 drill, told her that, as she had feared, they were all 
 working in the deep cut. One glance behind her 
 assured her that there was no time to be lost 
 already the waters were pouring over the embank- 
 ment on which she had stood leaping and flashing 
 in the sunlight as they came. She ran swiftly down 
 the steep, crooked path, and in a moment more 
 stood on the bare, shelly bedrock beside the ditch. 
 
THE RESERVOIRS 99 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Sims," she cried, for he was the only 
 one she saw, "where are the others? The reser- 
 voirs are breaking." 
 
 "No!" said Sims, looking up, with his pick 
 poised in readiness for another blow; "is that so? 
 It's only a squirrel hole, I reckon." 
 
 "Indeed, it is not," she cried earnestly. "Do tell 
 George to come up. It is running over the big 
 reservoir all around like a wall." 
 
 "The d 1 it is!" ejaculated Mr. Sims, quite 
 startled out of his sense of propriety. "Hey, boys ! 
 Bill, George, Kentuck ! Grab your tools and come 
 out. The reservoirs are busted and things will go 
 flukin' here in just no time." 
 
 They did not need to be told a second time, but 
 started without standing on "the order of their 
 going." Sims was the first to reach the spot where 
 she stood just as the roar of the advancing tor- 
 rent smote upon their ears. 
 
 "Where's George?" she asked, her face white 
 with anxiety and terror. 
 
 "He was bringing up the lowest level," an- 
 swered Sims. "He's got a little further to come 
 than them fellers," pointing to the two blasters 
 who had just climbed out. "My God, he's 
 stopped," he continued, as with a deafening crash 
 the stream burst over the bank. 
 
100 THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 She looked down with a face of despair. To 
 think she should be only a moment too late ! He 
 was just beneath them, and as he looked upward 
 their eyes met, for the first time in many days. 
 
 "Come up on the timbers," cried Kentuck; "you 
 can't make it in any other way." 
 
 He understood the motion accompanying the 
 words, which were lost in the overwhelming roar 
 of the descending waters. Gathering his strength 
 for a mighty effort, he sprang up, and catching 
 one of the lowest timbers, swung himself upon it 
 just as the stream (which had been for a moment 
 checked by a low channel back) passed swiftly 
 under his feet. From brace to brace he came up 
 like a squirrel, and soon the strong arms of his 
 partners had him safely landed. He turned to the 
 spot where he had seen his wife standing, and a cry 
 of agony burst from his heart as he saw her lying, 
 pale and lifeless, with her cheek to the ragged rock. 
 
 "Let's take her up, boys," said Kentuck, who of 
 them all seemed to be the most cool and collected. 
 "We ain't out of the woods yet, by a long chalk. 
 That ditch hasn't vent enough to carry what'll be 
 on us in a minute more, and we'd better get up 
 and get out of here while we can." 
 
 Tenderly, as if she were an infant, they raised her 
 and started up the narrow trail. Kentuck was 
 right, for scarce had they commenced the ascent 
 
THE RESERVOIRS IOI 
 
 when the final crash came. The last and greatest 
 of the reservoirs was gone the avalanche of 
 waters tore over the bank in all directions, almost 
 sweeping them from their feet where they stood. 
 It lasted but a minute, but that minute was enough 
 for it to do its work of destruction as effectually as 
 years could have been. 
 
 "It's been touch and go with us, boys," said Ken- 
 tuck, as they reached the level ground and paused, 
 partly to take breath and partly to look upon the 
 scene of destruction. "We'd gone to kingdom 
 come with our gum-boots on, if it weren't for the 
 grit and forethought of this gal. Poor creetur; 
 she stood it bully till she seed you was all right 
 then she kind of lost her grip, and drapped all holts 
 to wunst. A little good nussin', though, will bring 
 her 'round. George, old boy, this thing sets in- 
 fernal rough onto us; don't it? It's ondid in a 
 minute what's taken us years to do. But if it brings 
 that gal and you together agin so's you'll stick t 
 damme if I don't say 'Amen' to my part of it, jest 
 as long as I live." 
 
 But what Kentuck thought about the "little nus- 
 sin' " did not prove to be the case. The seeds of 
 disease had been in her system ; the excitement she 
 had undergone only hastened their development, 
 and for many days her life hung trembling in the 
 balance; while her distracted mind, ever wander- 
 
102 THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 ing back to the realms of memory, lived in the 
 past, and laid bare the most secret recesses of her 
 heart. 
 
 It was days, nay, weeks, ere Mary Willard again 
 opened her eyes with the light of reason shining 
 from within them. She could hardly persuade her- 
 self she was not dreaming, for although her apart- 
 ment had a strangely familiar look, it was not one 
 she could have been led to expect. It was not her 
 room at Mrs. Sanders', but her room at her hus- 
 band's house, and it looked as though she had 
 never, even for an hour, left it. There was the 
 great mirror in its usual place, her favorite pic- 
 tures where they had been hung by her own hands, 
 and the snowy coverlet on the bed was the one she 
 had made the first happy summer of her wedded 
 life. She closed her eyes again, and wondered if 
 what she had seen was reality, or only imagination. 
 Gradually it all came to her mind the separation, 
 the proceedings in the court, and last of all, the 
 walk up the reservoirs and what had followed. She 
 could not reconcile these things with her present 
 surroundings, and hoped that it was but the mem- 
 ory of a painful dream, remembered only for the 
 fancied suffering it had brought her. Her thoughts 
 became confused in trying to solve the problem 
 they had given, and it was only when she essayed 
 to rise upon her elbow and look around her, that 
 
THE RESERVOIRS 103 
 
 she came to the knowledge of her own weakness. 
 As she fell back to her pillow, there was a quick 
 step to the side of the bed, and she saw the hag- 
 gard, careworn face of her husband looking down 
 eagerly upon her. 
 
 "What has happened, George?" she asked, 
 faintly. 
 
 "Don't speak, darling; you have been very sick, 
 but are better now. Now lie very still while I call 
 the doctor, for such are his directions." 
 
 He passed from the room and presently returned 
 with the village physician. His view of the pa- 
 tient's condition was a most hopeful one, and with 
 a strict injunction to remain quiet and not permit 
 herself to become excited about anything, he took 
 his departure, leaving them alone. 
 
 For a few moments they were silent, when she 
 made a motion which brought his face close to her 
 own: 
 
 "I thought I heard music, George?" 
 
 "You did, Mary; they are dancing at the hall, 
 in honor of Christmas eve." 
 
 Christmas eve. It all came clear to her now. 
 The past was no dream, the remembrance of which 
 she could put aside at pleasure. And this was the 
 Christmas party she had been invited to attend, 
 and to which invitation she had given a half as- 
 sent. He gathered from her looks that painful 
 
104 THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 thoughts were passing through her mind, and 
 bending close to her, whispered : 
 
 "Mary, we have both been foolish, and it has 
 made us very wretched; but we will not talk of it 
 now. Try and compose yourself to rest, and when 
 you have the strength to talk to me, I will tell you 
 how I have prayed, God only knows how earnestly, 
 for the moment when I could hear the sweet words 
 of forgiveness fall from your lips. How I have 
 dreaded lest you should be taken from me with 
 those words unspoken. To ask you to trust to me 
 once more, and may God deal with me as I do with 
 thee." 
 
 She smiled in reply to his earnest words and 
 manner of speaking, and the wan hand she had 
 given within his own gave a faint pressure. Then 
 she fell into a deep and quiet slumber, which con- 
 tinued until the lengthening shadows were falling 
 from the westward, and the day was far advanced. 
 
 She lay quiet for a time, thinking upon her 
 course of action. It did not take her long to de- 
 cide upon that, and with her determination came 
 visions of the future which enchanted her thoughts. 
 A light step by the bedside awoke her from her 
 reverie, and she saw one of her neighbor ladies 
 standing by her. 
 
 "My husband?" she asked. 
 
" here you are, and not looking nigh as peekid as I thought 
 you would." (See page 105.) 
 
THE RESERVOIRS 1 05 
 
 "He'll come at once. He went to lie down and 
 left orders to be called whenever you awoke." And 
 in a moment George was with her. 
 
 u ls it Christmas Day?" she asked. 
 
 "It is, Mary." 
 
 "Peace on earth, and good will to man, upon this 
 day. We will not wait for a better one, George." 
 
 He understood her meaning, and a messenger 
 was dispatched for a minister. "There is one 
 other I would like to have present, Mary Ken- 
 tuck, and I'll have to go and look for him myself." 
 
 She assented with a nod, and he went out. When 
 he returned his true old partner was with him. 
 
 "Well, now," said that worthy, cheerfully, 
 "here you are, and not looking nigh as peekid as I 
 thought you would. Why, you'll be as peert and 
 spry as a house lizard in a couple of weeks. How 
 air you feelin' anyhow?" 
 
 She thanked him and said that she was real well; 
 only rather weak. 
 
 "Oh, that's nat' rally to be looked for, you 
 know. Now, I'll have to go again, but I'm liable 
 to drop in on you any minute." 
 
 "Not yet," said George; "we want you to stay 
 to our wedding." 
 
 "Is that so? Now you're talking sense. This 
 news makes a better Christmas for me than a dol- 
 
106 THE RESERVOIRS 
 
 lar to the pan in the gravel Would. Whose notion 
 was it to have it today ?" 
 
 "Hers." 
 
 "Of course it was," said Kentuck, with a saga- 
 cious look. "I'd a knowed that without askin' if I'd 
 a stopped to think. George, she's a trump. She's 
 a heart flush in twenty-deck." 
 
 "Kentuck pays you a high compliment," said 
 George to Mary, who looked puzzled. "Every- 
 thing goes by the cards with him. He means to 
 tell you that you are the best there is." 
 
 "That's it, ma'am, exactly. But I tell you, if I 
 thought I could make one 'draw' and get a gal like 
 you, I'd never raise back on two pa'r ag'in. I'd 
 never touch a keerd." 
 
 The arrival of the clergyman checked the flow 
 of Kentuck's jargon, and, after a little general con- 
 versation, the ceremony was proceeded with. The 
 re-united couple took on themselves the sacred ob- 
 ligations with a far deeper sense of their signifi- 
 cance than before. In the months of their separa- 
 tion they had learned to study the faults and fail- 
 ings which were hidden in their own bosoms, and to 
 know that the security of domestic happiness lies in 
 reciprocal kindness and mutual forbearance. Study- 
 ing each the happiness of the other, neither had oc- 
 casion to regret the day on which the divorced wife 
 took her solitary walk in the direction of "The 
 Reservoirs." 
 
THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG 
 GULCH 
 
 A HOLIDAY STORY WITH A MORAL. 
 
 It was always a mystery to most people what 
 kept Jake Morton on Humbug Gulch. It was very 
 true that in early days Humbug had some rich spots 
 in it, and if report told the truth, Jake had, him- 
 self, at one time made quite a little "raise" from 
 the banks and bars of that now-condemned stream. 
 But the "raise," if Jake had ever had any, had long 
 since found its way into the pockets of more for- 
 tunate men, while Jake alone, of the many miners 
 who had at different times, essayed to make Hum- 
 bug pay, still lived there and worked among its 
 boulders. If Humbug had ever had a palmy day, 
 it must have been many years ago, for it was pretty 
 well understood, among the quid mines who are to 
 be found in every mining camp, that Jake Morton 
 had not made a good day's wages there for four 
 years. He always got a little gold, they knew; 
 enough so that he kept his accounts pretty well bal- 
 anced with the merchants and butchers of Slab- 
 town, which romantically named village was the 
 source from which the Hermit of Humbug drew his 
 
108 THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 
 
 supplies, but then, if a man wants to work for just 
 his "grub," he can make that almost anywhere, and 
 not be compelled to camp off in such an out-of-the- 
 way place as that which he had chosen. 
 
 But Jake Morton had a theory of his own in re- 
 lation to the diggings on Humbug, and that theory 
 he wisely kept to himself. So the stray miners 
 whom curiosity in regard to Jake's movements, or 
 a desire to win success by striking a prospect where 
 everyone else had failed, who from time to time 
 made their appearance at Jake's cabin, armed with 
 pan and pick and other paraphernalia of "ye pros- 
 pector," always left with a profound disgust, both 
 of the gulch itself, and of any man who would fool 
 away his time by staying in such a miserable section, 
 where, as "Kentuck No. i" once said, "A man 
 might ground sluice a year before he'd take out 
 gold enough to fill a holler tooth." So bad, indeed, 
 had become the reputation of the Humbug dig- 
 gings, that even John Chinaman, with his everlast- 
 ing rocker, seldom strayed up that way, but on the 
 other hand gave them a wide berth. All this, how- 
 ever, was just what Jake desired. He had been on 
 the gulch so long that he knew just where every 
 good spot in it had been, and he could pick around 
 these spots and make a few dollars at any time 
 when, in trying to prove the truth of his theory, he 
 found himself running "light." 
 
THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 1 09 
 
 The winter had set in unusually stormy, and the 
 holidays had arrived, when the events detailed in 
 this most truthful legend are said to have trans- 
 pired. For several days the rain had poured down 
 in torrents, swelling each little stream beyond its 
 due proportions, while the tops of the hills and the 
 sides of the loftier mountains were clothed in the 
 fleecy garments of snow. Jake stood in the door 
 of his old log cabin, looking out upon the swollen 
 stream and the gloomy sky, with a most discon- 
 tented expression of countenance. If an "honest 
 miner" of the present day should look upon such 
 a scene with the slightest degree of disapprobation, 
 he would be at once adjudged a fit candidate for 
 Stockton, for miners now believe if we could only 
 have a "wet winter" the whole year around we 
 would soon get rich. But the secret of Jake's dis- 
 content was this: he wanted to go to town. Man 
 is defined to be an animal gregarious in instincts, 
 and Jake, albeit he lived and worked by himself, 
 could enjoy the society of his fellow-man as well 
 as anybody. Moreover, it was the last day of the 
 year, and the idea of commencing a New Year in 
 the solitudes of Humbug Gulch was, for some rea- 
 son, unusually distasteful to its lone inhabitant. 
 He studied some time profoundly whether he 
 should defy the elements and make a start anyhow. 
 But the thought of wading through the ice-cold 
 
1 10 THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 
 
 waters of Gambler's Ravine, and then perhaps find- 
 ing the footbridge washed away at the White Mule 
 Gulch, was too strong for him, and with a last 
 lingering look at the darkening sky, he gathered an 
 armful of dry wood from the shed and entered his 
 cabin. 
 
 The short winter day soon drew to a close, while 
 the storm without raged with renewed fury. When 
 Jake had eaten supper and put things a little to 
 rights, he piled a fresh lot of wood in the broad 
 fire-place, and, drawing a comical imitation of an 
 easy chair before the cheerful fire, fell into a 
 dreamy reverie. Naturally enough his thoughts 
 reverted to the scene of by-gone days, to the holi- 
 day festivities which had been so heartily celebrated 
 in the old house at home, and the temptation to 
 compare his present mode of life to that to which 
 he had been accustomed became irresistible. He 
 looked around upon the bare walls of the rough 
 cabin which had been his home for so many weary 
 years, and took mental note of the rude furniture 
 which formed its only embellishment. A few pots 
 and skillets, blackened with long and constant use ; 
 two or three frying pans hanging to nails driven in 
 the logs; dishrags nailed to the end of a stick; a 
 pine table, on which stood one clean plate and half 
 a dozen dirty ones; these, with a broom and an 
 old, long-handled shovel (which had once done 
 
THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 1 1 1 
 
 duty in the claim and now did the same in the fire- 
 place) standing in the corner, constituted the adorn- 
 ments of his home. A little shelf on which were 
 ranged a number of books, was the only thing that 
 had a home-like appearance to him that night. One 
 glance was enough for Jake, who elapsed into his 
 reverie again, while the storm raged on without, 
 and the waters of the gulch, a few rods from the 
 door, roared in a manner which told of their fast 
 gathering strength. 
 
 "This is a sweet old place for a man to be in on 
 New Year's eve," soliloquized Jake, who, like men 
 generally who are much alone, had contracted the 
 habit of talking to himself. "It's just as good 
 though as to be down-town. What's Christmas or 
 New Year more than any other day to a fellow in 
 the mines? Let me find that lead once that the 
 Fleming boys had, and I'll get to a civilized coun- 
 try, quicker." 
 
 Oh, ho, Mr. Morton, so it's the search for a lost 
 lead that keeps you a resident of Humbug ! Well, 
 we know a great many miners who have hunted for 
 a pay-streak that somebody else had in former 
 years, but it's not very often that they find it. 
 
 His eyes wandered sleepily around until they 
 again rested on the old shovel in the corner. 
 
 "You've been a pretty good shovel in your day," 
 said Jake, apostrophizing the battered tool; "you 
 
112 THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 
 
 helped me to work out the best spot I ever found in 
 the gulch. I'd like to find another spot like that." 
 
 "What good would it do you?" returned the 
 shovel, which seemed to take on some semblance to 
 a human form and advance toward him. 
 
 Jake started from his seat at hearing the shovel 
 address him so curtly. But the shovel was sitting 
 just as he had left it, and he settled back in the old 
 chair again. 
 
 "Steamboated again," muttered Jake, "though I 
 could almost swear it spoke to me. But it's as big 
 a humbug as the gulch itself." 
 
 There was no mistake that this time the shovel 
 did walk out of its corner and slipped in between 
 Jake and the fire. 
 
 "So; you think I'm a humbug, do you? Well, 
 since we are on Humbug and on humbugs, what are 
 you, sir?" 
 
 The idea of an old fire-shovel walking about the 
 room and punning in this manner was too much for 
 him ; he couldn't answer a word. 
 
 "You're an arrant humbug yourself, Jake Mor- 
 ton," said the shovel, answering its own question. 
 "And now I want you to tell me what good it would 
 do you to find another spot?" 
 
 "I'd go back home," responded Jake. 
 
 "Fudge! why didn't you go when you had fin- 
 ished working the first spot?" 
 
THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 113 
 
 Jake couldn't form a suitable answer, so the 
 shovel answered for him again. 
 
 "You were too proud to do it. You thought you 
 might be laughed at if you came back from the 
 golden land with a few hundred dollars. You 
 would be just the same way again. You're a pretty 
 good fellow, Jake, and generally mean well; but 
 you've got your faults, and must get rid of them. 
 You must, tomorrow, commence with the New 
 Year and turn over a new leaf." 
 
 Jake did not know whether to be angry or not at 
 being talked to in such plain language. But he 
 wisely concluded he could make nothing by quar- 
 reling with the old blade, so he held his peace. 
 
 u You went to town on Christmas day and took 
 nine dollars with you. You bought a piece of ham 
 and some little things besides, and came back 
 1 broke.' How did you spend your money?" 
 
 Jake was ashamed to answer. But his com- 
 panion seemed to read his thoughts and answered 
 for him, as usual. 
 
 "I'll tell you, Jacob. You bought a raffle ticket 
 for something you couldn't have used if you had 
 won it. Then you fell in with some of your old 
 chummies and treated them. To wind up with, you 
 played a few games of cards for the drinks, and 
 came home without a cent." 
 
1 14 THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 
 
 Jake felt that he could not dispute a word that 
 was said. 
 
 "And I'm sorry to say, Jacob, that this fault is 
 growing on you. Once you played these social 
 games just to pass away time. Now, you think 
 that a glass of liquor occasionally does you good. 
 In this way you squander enough every year to take 
 you back to your old home, where loving eyes grow 
 dim watching for your return. Look to the east." 
 
 Jacob turned his eyes in the direction indicated, 
 and looked upon a scene which brought his heart to 
 his lips. It seemed as though the broad expanse of 
 mountain, hill and plain which stretched between 
 him and his former home had been leveled down, 
 and while every landmark of the long and tedious 
 road which he had traveled years before was 
 marked down with photographic minuteness, yet 
 space seemed to be annihilated, and he could look 
 into the old farmhouse of his parents as easily as 
 if he were standing at the kitchen window. It was 
 a familiar scene to him, and one which he had often 
 recalled in imagination an old couple seated at 
 the table the old man reading aloud from a news- 
 paper, while his wife plied the knitting needles. 
 
 As Jacob looked, the old man laid down the 
 paper and, taking off his spectacles, drew his chair 
 nearer the fire. For a few moments there was 
 
THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 115 
 
 silence, broken only by the click of the knitting 
 needles. 
 
 "If Jacob was only with us tonight," said the 
 old man, half to himself and half to his companion. 
 
 The knitting work fell into her lap, and as she 
 bent her head over it the tears flowed steadily upon 
 it. "Poor boy," she said at last; "I was thinking 
 of him all day." 
 
 "It is nigh onto fifteen years since he left us, 
 wife," said the old man after a little. "He was 
 only to be gone three years, and it's stretched out 
 to this time." 
 
 "It's not his fault that he hasn't come, I'll be 
 bound," said the mother, coming at once to the 
 defense of her absent boy. "No, indeed, it can- 
 not be." 
 
 "Maybe not, wife; we'll think not anyway. I've 
 sometimes thought that if Em'ly had waited a little 
 longer, it might have been the means of drawin' 
 him back. He used to think a power of that girl." 
 
 "Emily did just right," responded his wife. "She 
 waited four years, and that is long enough for a girl 
 to wait for anybody. She had to look out for her- 
 self after her father died, and there could be no 
 home like her own. Suppose she had waited until 
 now, as we have done." 
 
1 1 6 THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 
 
 "Well, I'm not blaming the girl, wife; I was 
 only supposin' a case, as they say. Well, God bless 
 him, wherever he is." 
 
 As the mother uttered a fervent "Amen," Jacob 
 turned his head to wipe the tears which had gath- 
 ered in his own eyes. When he looked again, he 
 saw nothing but the walls of his cabin. 
 
 "I'll be with them," muttered Jake, clearing his 
 voice; "they won't be waiting and waiting for me 
 on another New Year's eve." 
 
 "Shall I show you anything more?" asked his 
 companion. 
 
 "Anything you will," said Jacob, "what you 
 show me can only be for my good." 
 
 The sides of the cabin opened again, and he saw 
 that he was gazing down upon a newly settled coun- 
 try. Lofty mountains were divided by valleys, and 
 he could see, by looking closely down through the 
 branches of magnificent forest trees which cov- 
 ered the whole face of the land, that in all these 
 valleys where streams of water flowed, bands of 
 men wiere at work. As he listened, he could hear, 
 in the hum of busy industry, which rose above the 
 forests, the dull thud of the pick, the sharper clang 
 of the shovel and the rattle of the rocker. He 
 looked among the workers, and in one group recog- 
 nized his own form. 
 
THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 1 17 
 
 "That was a scene of fifteen years ago," said his 
 companion. "What a sturdy lot of fellows they 
 are. Young men, too, nearly all. There's hardly a 
 gray-beard among them. Look at them now." 
 
 The scene changed in a second's space. It was 
 easy to look upon it now, for in many places the 
 forest trees had been swept away until hardly a 
 good-sized bush remained. Around and among 
 these denuded spots there were miners still at work. 
 Many of them were the same he had seen when he 
 looked before, but their features bore the marks of 
 premature old age, and their faces were care-worn, 
 as if hope had ceased to dwell in their bosoms. 
 
 "That is a scene of today," said the shovel. "Oh, 
 Jacob Morton, what have you to show for those 
 lost fifteen years?" 
 
 "Nothing," replied Jacob. 
 
 "Nothing. Have you spent fifteen of the best 
 years of the brief existence allotted to man amid 
 scenes like these, and received nothing but what 
 has fed and clothed you? Do you call a ruined 
 constitution and failing health nothing? You have 
 sown in the storm that others might reap in the 
 sunshine; you, and those others whom you see have 
 by their toil built up a great and wealthy State, and 
 yet are today among the poorest of her people. 
 The wealth you have dug from the ground has 
 
1 1 8 THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 
 
 gone to enrich others, and now that old age is 
 creeping on you all, what is to be the end?" 
 
 "I cannot tell," said Jacob. 
 
 "I can," said his companion. "Look once more 
 at what the end will be fifteen years in the future." 
 
 Jacob looked and saw before him a large build- 
 ing, which he knew at once was maintained at pub- 
 lic expense. Half a dozen or more, whose features 
 were familiar to him as men who had been his min- 
 ing comrades in former years, were seated before its 
 doors. Apart from those were two others, who 
 seemed to be connected with the establishment. 
 They were joined by a third. 
 
 "Well, how's the Forty-niner now?" was asked 
 of the newcomer. 
 
 "Oh, he's gone at last," was the reply. 
 
 "The best thing that could have happened him. 
 He was a hard working man until they brought 
 him here, and although he wasn't a lucky miner, if 
 he had only taken care of what he did make, would 
 have never been brought here at all. But he had his 
 "forty-nine" habits to the last, and never seemed to 
 realize how times had changed. Well, let's get rid 
 of him at once." 
 
 They entered the building, and in a brief 
 space of time re-appeared, bearing a rude, pine 
 coffin. Jacob could look within it and see his own 
 features. His old companions fell into the pro- 
 
THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 119 
 
 cession, and hobbling to the burying ground, stood 
 by while the coffin was being lowered into the grave. 
 
 "Fill it up quick, boys. Chuck in that big rock 
 there ; anything to get him out of the way." 
 
 The rock came down with a deafening crash 
 and Jacob Morton awoke. Awoke to find the fire 
 had burned down to a few ashy coals, while a sen- 
 sation of coldness pervaded his frame; awoke with 
 such a strong conviction of the reality of what he 
 had seen, that it was some minutes before he could 
 bring himself to believe that it was an illusion. 
 Awoke with that strange, instinctive consciousness 
 of impending danger which often comes upon us, 
 even when we have not the least idea of from what 
 quarter the danger may come. 
 
 "Well, well, well! if this don't bang everything 
 in the line of dreaming that ever I experienced, may 
 I be darned," muttered Jake, as he groped for a 
 match to re-light the candle. "Old shovel," he con- 
 tinued affectionately apostrophizing that instru- 
 ment, "if I ever do get to a Christian land again, 
 I'll take you along and keep you in a glass case; 
 I will, darn me if I don't." 
 
 He was so tender of the old, blackened blade, 
 that he would not even rake the dying embers of the 
 fire together with it, as had been his wont, but 
 poked them up in a heap with a stick. Then he 
 
I2O THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 
 
 threw on a little light wood and settled down in 
 the easy chair again. 
 
 He filled and lighted his pipe, and smoked some- 
 time in silence. Meantime the conviction of ap- 
 proaching danger grew stronger upon him and was 
 not to be shaken off. 
 
 "What in thunder ails me?" he muttered again; 
 "has that confounded dream had such an effect on 
 me as this? It seems strange that the gulch don't 
 make any more noise; it was roaring like a cat- 
 aract when I went to sleep. The storm has stopped, 
 but the stream hadn't ought to run down as quick 
 as this." 
 
 He hastily put on his slippers (made of a pair of 
 old boots which had been cut off at the instep) and, 
 throwing his coat over his shoulders, took the can- 
 dle and stepped out of doors. There was a well- 
 beaten path to the gulch over which he had carried 
 the water for household use for years. A few steps 
 brought him to the bed, and he held up his hand in 
 wonder at the sight. Where had been a foaming 
 torrent a few hours before he could now cross, by 
 stepping from stone to stone, without wetting his 
 slippered feet. Jake comprehended the situation 
 at once. 
 
 "There's been a slide up the canyon," he solilo- 
 quized, "and a big one, too, or it would never have 
 
THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 121 
 
 shut off the water so dry. I must travel out of this 
 
 at once." 
 
 As he came up on the flat again, he cast an in- 
 voluntary glance up the canyon he had spoken of. 
 Instead of the gap which had marked the spot 
 before, it looked like a mountain wall all the way 
 across. It had been the roar of this earth avalanche 
 which had roused him from his dream. 
 
 Entering the cabin, he hastily made a couple of 
 bundles of things most valuable and useful to him, 
 and swinging them on the old shovel, Chinaman 
 fashion, he issued forth. He was not a moment 
 too soon, for at the first glance he saw that the 
 pent-up waters from above were already breaking 
 through their barrier, and that in a few minutes the 
 whole vast mass would move upon the spot where 
 he was standing. Seizing his bundles, he climbed 
 the mountain side to a safe place, and sat down to 
 await the result. And now the whole mass was in 
 motion, creeping slowly, bodily down the gulch. 
 A moment more, as the wet earth settled down, the 
 waters began to pour over the summit and tear a 
 channel down through the center. As the volume 
 of water increased and the channel deepened, great 
 trees fell in from either side, snapping off like pipe- 
 stems, while huge boulders were caught up by the 
 roaring waters and swept away like bunches of 
 foam. While the top of the slide was thus being 
 
122 THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 
 
 torn to pieces, the whole, pressed on by the weight 
 of the lake above, moved down the gulch with in- 
 creasing speed. The cabin withstood its force for 
 a moment and for a moment only then its logs 
 were torn asunder and it moved on with the rest. 
 It was a grand sight, yet terrible in its grandeur. 
 
 For an hour Jake sat and watched the scene, by 
 which time the waters had spent their force. Then 
 he shouldered his bundles and made his way down 
 the gulch to where there were some old cabins, in 
 one of which he left his load and thence made his 
 way to town. To say that Jake felt down-hearted 
 at this sudden turn in his affairs would not fully 
 describe his feelings. To borrow his own language, 
 he "felt worse at being driven out of Humbug in 
 this manner than he did when he first left home. 
 You see," added Jake, explainingly, "when I left 
 home to come here, I was young and buoyant with 
 health and hope ; I had the world before me and it 
 seemed impossible that I should fail of success. 
 Now, I've been here on the gulch so long that it 
 seems more like home to me than anywhere else that 
 I've got the means to go to." There is more than 
 one miner that we know of, Jake, that could talk 
 exactly as you do. 
 
 There was no lack of sympathy for him among 
 his brother miners, when it became known that his 
 cabin had been swept away by the slide. It took a 
 
THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 123 
 
 substantial form, too, for he had a dozen offers of 
 a chance to camp with one and another, until he 
 saw an opportunity to do better. One of these 
 offers he gladly accepted, and went over to get the 
 things that he had left in the deserted cabin, scat- 
 tered along the gulch, and take a last look at his old 
 home. 
 
 He hardly knew the once familiar place. Where 
 the waters of the gulch had run on the night where 
 he stood in his slippers and looked down on its 
 empty bed, was now piled many feet deep with the 
 red mountain earth, while the stream itself, turned 
 from its original course, had cut a new channel 
 through the little flat on which the cabin and garden 
 patch had stood. Jake could not bear to look on 
 his desolated home, and hastened away. 
 
 The little good fortune he had while on Humbug 
 seemed to have deserted him in his new locality, and 
 it was not long before the thought of that "lost 
 lead" on Humbug became too strong to be resisted. 
 How prone old miners are to wander, perhaps many 
 miles away from some scene of their earlier experi- 
 ences, be gone perchance for years, and then return 
 to work some spot which they had had in their 
 mind's eye through all their wanderings ! Thus it 
 was with Jake, who, with the return of spring, 
 wended his way back to Humbug. But he was 
 more fortunate than his class in general, for under 
 
124 THE LEGEND OF HUMBUG GULCH 
 
 the site of his former house in the new channel of 
 the gulch, he found, not the lost lead of Humbug, 
 but a fair-paying claim, from which, by a summer's 
 work and the practice of a better economy than that 
 to which he had been used, he laid by enough to 
 keep the promise he had made in his dream, and 
 return to the old homestead before another New 
 Year's eve. 
 
 Whether Mr. Morton, after his return, found 
 some fair one to take that place in his heart once 
 held by the perfidious Emily this legend sayeth 
 not, but from the opinion which I entertain of man 
 in general I am inclined to believe he did. I am 
 confirmed in this view of the case by the fact that, 
 for awhile he kept writing about coming back, but 
 in his last letter to a Slabtown chum, he tells him 
 that if he'd go to Humbug and run a drift one 
 hundred feet into Gas Point he will strike that lead 
 which the Fleming brothers had, sure. 
 
THE JOES 
 
 It is not my purpose to describe, with minute 
 particularity either the "Joes," or the place where 
 they had found an abiding place, temporary at 
 first, but which bid fair to become a permanent one 
 as the years rolled on and still found them in the 
 old spot. The Joes were characters in their way. 
 Pew, if any, of their neighbors could have given 
 any designation of them, other than I have 
 given. There was a tradition, current among 
 the inhabitants of Last Chance, that at one 
 time the storekeeper had kept an account against 
 "Bagley & Co.," for the two Joes, but which was 
 Biagley, and which the "Co.," was a thing the wi- 
 sest inhabitant of Last Chance would have hesitated 
 to declare. It was even hinted that Cale Durkee, 
 who had acted as clerk of the election board for a 
 number of years successively, had written down 
 their names, but as the Joes had not voted for a 
 number of years, for reasons we will hereafter ex- 
 plain, and as Cale professed to have forgotten the 
 names in the flurry of the occasion, his superior op- 
 portunities for knowledge were lost to the com- 
 munity. 
 
126 THE JOES 
 
 In personal features and build, the Joes were 
 very much alike, as also in respect to age, both be- 
 ing somewhere along the middle thirties. Each re- 
 joiced in the possession of a full and flowing 
 beard, but as the beard of one was a dark brown 
 while that of the other was inclined to be sandy, 
 this distinguishing trait was sufficient to suggest 
 proper appellations, so, while they were collectively 
 spoken of as the Joes, the respective members of the 
 firm were on occasions known as "Brown Joe," and 
 "Sandy Joe." Rumor further had it, upon the au- 
 thority of the ubiquitous John Smith, who was 
 looked upon in our town as the political oracle, that 
 Brown Joe was a rank Democrat of the Secession 
 stripe, and Sandy Joe, the blackest, of Black Re- 
 publicans. But this disagreement of political opin- 
 ion was by no means the cause of strife between 
 them, as neither tried to convert the other, in fact, 
 it was a positive advantage in one way, for it kept 
 them from being "electioneered" by the local can- 
 didates, as the vote of one would generally offset 
 that of the other and so, as a matter of fact, they 
 generally stayed at home and worked in the claim, 
 or at some other job on hand, leaving the destinies 
 of this great republic to be settled by those sov- 
 ereigns not so happily situated. 
 
 It was on Christmas Day, that some of the 
 events which go to make up the thread of this 
 
THE JOES 127 
 
 eventful story transpired and the Joes were in their 
 cabin. A nice little cabin it was, too, located in 
 the center of a piece of creek bottom land which 
 the judicious husbandry of Brown Joe had caused 
 to bring forth huge cabbages, great rutabagas, 
 gigantic squashes and all sorts of "garden truck" 
 in its season. The Joes, as we have said, were in 
 their cabin, for there was no thought, of course, 
 of going into the claim to work on that day. They 
 had read and re-read the last papers, talked out 
 every subject which presented itself to their minds, 
 and at last, relapsed into smoke and silence. 
 
 "Joe." It was Brown Joe who spoke. 
 
 "Well, Joe; what is it?" 
 
 "What shall we have for dinner?" 
 
 Sandy Joe at once went into deep meditation on 
 the momentous question thus presented. Finally 
 he took out his pipe, knocked out the ashes on the 
 rocks of the fireplace and answered, half respon- 
 sively, half inquiringly: 
 
 "Oysters?" 
 
 "Oysters be hanged," said Brown Joe. 
 
 It is my desire to be truthful in this report of the 
 dialogue between the respective partners, so I put 
 in Brown's exact words, though I must say they 
 were uttered with more than necessary emphasis. 
 Sandy took it as a matter of course and only 
 grinned. 
 
128 THE JOES 
 
 "Oysters are fa'r grub, when you've got plenty 
 of fresh milk an' the right kind of crackers, which 
 we hain't; but I ain't much stuck on the dern 
 things at any time. I'd rather have a piece of fresh 
 po'k any day." 
 
 "Perhaps the widow will send us another mince 
 pie," suggested the other. 
 
 "The widow be ," retorted Brown Joe, 
 
 with more emphasis than before, and truthful as I 
 may desire to be, I shall stamp my disapproval of 
 his language by refusing it a place in this history. 
 
 Sandy settled back in his chair and gave a huge 
 guffaw, in which, after a little, his partner joined. 
 
 "The widder thought she was playin' it mighty 
 sharp," continued Brown. "When she seed me, 
 she sorter hinted I was the chap on whose account 
 them pies was sent, but when she seed you, why 
 you was the chap and it was all right until we got 
 to comparin' notes, an' then she was played out 
 with both of us." 
 
 Sandy grinned as if in approval of his partner's 
 remarks. 
 
 "Widders is queer critters," continued Brown 
 Joe, reflectively. "Now, this un is ready to share 
 either on us for life, with a pretty fa'r sized family 
 to start with. An' it ain't the fust time I've had a 
 chance to take the place of the dear departed. I 
 remember onct, back in Missoury, about " 
 
THE JOES 129 
 
 But Sandy had heard the story of his partner's 
 narrow escape about forty times, already, and we 
 all know that the best of stones will be spoiled by 
 telling them too often to the same person. So he 
 incontinently disappeared into the next room and 
 we were thus cruelly bereft of the benefit of Brown 
 Joe's experience with the widow of Pike. 
 
 Sandy soon reappeared, equipped with a hunt- 
 ing bag and shotgun, the last of which he pro- 
 ceeded carefully to load, explaining as he did so, 
 that he had three or four times lately scared up a 
 flock of quail at the head of Dutch Ravine, and if 
 he could come across them today, he could furnish 
 material for a dinner fit for any day, only it would 
 have to be a little late. 
 
 "I thought about them," said Brown, "but I 
 never could shoot one of them scatterguns and the 
 durned things won't sit still long enough to pick 
 their heads off with a rifle. Howsomever, you get 
 the quail, and I'll get everything else ready, an' 
 we'll have as good a feed as any on 'em." 
 
 Sandy departed on his murderous mission, and 
 Brown, good as his word, began at once to get the 
 other things in readiness. The remnants of the 
 morning meal were put into the frying pan ready 
 to "warm up," the potatoes were peeled and 
 sliced, the coffee ground and Brown Joe, with the 
 air of a man who has accomplished his mission in 
 
130 THE JOES 
 
 this world, seated himself in the rocking chair after 
 fishing up an old copy of Harper's and patiently 
 awaited his partner's return. 
 
 Joe searched in vain through the columns of the 
 old magazine to see if he could find something 
 which had been overlooked before, but I am sorry 
 to say without success. As a matter of course he 
 did the next best thing to do, and fell asleep in the 
 chair, sleeping so soundly that he did not hear a 
 wagon drive up and stop in the road opposite their 
 door. Even when a large trunk was brought and 
 placed in the porch, and a woman's voice outside 
 should have been distinctly heard, he had only an 
 indistinct idea of what was transpiring and fell to 
 dreaming that the widow was about to make a coup 
 d'etat upon him in his partner's absence. It was 
 not until there came a loud, clear knock at the door, 
 that Joe awoke shivering, for during his long slum- 
 ber the fire had burned quite low. 
 
 "Knock away, gol durn yer," growled Joe, his 
 thoughts at once reverting to his dream. But when 
 the knock was repeated, Joe saw that he might as 
 well face the music at once, so he called out: 
 "Come in." 
 
 Instead of obeying the direction given, there 
 came another knock. Joe got up unwillingly and 
 moved toward the door, growling at every step he 
 took. But when he reached and opened the door 
 
"Why don't you ask me to come in? It makes no difference, 
 for I'm coming anyway." (See page 131.) 
 
THE JOES 131 
 
 he saw a sight which well might cause him to start 
 back in surprise. Instead of the widow and her 
 "tribe," as he looked for, his eyes rested on the 
 fair form and features of a young lady of, perhaps, 
 twenty summers, who looked up at him with an 
 amused, expectant smile, which Joe afterwards de- 
 clared "took the breath plumb out of him." 
 
 "Beg pardon, ma'am; I didn't know the fact 
 
 is I thought it was ," and Joe stopped, not 
 
 knowing what to say ; a practice we consider a very 
 good one and hereby recommend to our readers. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Joe, have you forgot all your man- 
 ners in this country? Why don't you ask me to 
 come in? It makes no difference, for I'm coming 
 anyway," and suiting the action to the word, the 
 fairy planked herself down in the very rocking 
 chair which Joe had just vacated, and, suggesting 
 that her ride had been a cold one, mildly hinted 
 that a little more fire would be acceptable. 
 
 Joe started for the woodshed and then for the 
 first time saw the traveling equipments on the 
 porch. This palled him worse than ever. "Looks 
 as if she had come to stay. Why didn't I go huntin' 
 and leave Sandy here to entertain these stray wo- 
 men what come along? And she had my name 
 pat, too. Dang it; I wish Sandy would come 
 home; it's about time for him. Danged if I can 
 make it out." 
 
132 THE JOES 
 
 Joe finished his soliloquy and coming in replen- 
 ished the fire, then taking a seat in front of his 
 strange visitor, he watched her in silence. 
 
 u joe, you dear, old fellow; don't you know 
 me?" And before Joe could realize what she was 
 about, she had fastened her arms about his neck 
 and after two or three warm kisses, which poor Joe 
 endured passively, she burst into a spell of crying. 
 
 "I meant to take you by surprise, Joe; and I did 
 it, didn't I? After father died, I told mother I 
 was going to come here and bring you home again. 
 You'll go with me, won't you, Joe?" 
 
 Joe didn't know what to say, but felt that he 
 must say something. So he faintly responded: 
 "Maybe some of these days." 
 
 "After a while when you get the claim all 
 worked out. Yes, Joe. I'll keep house for you 
 'till then, you don't know what a famous house- 
 keeper I've got to be, Joe. You'd hardly think it 
 of the little girl you left at home when you went 
 off to that horrid war with Mexico, and never came 
 back again. Now, Joe, I'll just get rid of my trav- 
 eling dress and then we'll have a great talk. Just 
 help me fetch in my trunk, that's a good fellow." 
 
 Joe obeyed mechanically, then went outside and 
 relapsed into a deep train of thought. "Can't see 
 into this, by a doggoned sight. She knows me, 
 knows my name and knows I went off with Doni- 
 
THE JOES 133 
 
 phan's boys to Mexico, but, danged if I know her. 
 I wonder if I ain't dead and this is the first taste of 
 heaven? Or maybe, I'm only asleep and dream- 
 ing all this just for a slant." Joe had picked up a 
 broken hoe handle in his reverie and was twirling 
 it when it slipped from his fingers and lighting 
 squarely on his pet corn, convinced him that he was 
 not only alive, but thoroughly awake. As he gave 
 a suppressed howl of anguish, the door opened and 
 his sphinx came forth. 
 
 "And I may have a flower garden in the spring, 
 too, Joe, if we stay here; can't I?" 
 
 "Oh, sartin." 
 
 "And where shall I have it? I shall want you 
 to go to work on it early in the spring." 
 
 "Oh, anywhere you like," said Joe, desperately. 
 "Alongside the trail thar or anywhere else. You 
 can put the posies wherever you like." 
 
 "You dear, good fellow," said the girl, and 
 again a pair of soft arms were entwined about his 
 neck and a pair of rosy lips pressed to his own. 
 Let us here record that Joe did not submit to this 
 as passively as he had at first. The wicked fellow 
 just knew there was some mistake, but was too 
 kind-hearted to tell her of it just yet. 
 
 "Hello, there; what's all this? Ain't you folks 
 cutting things a little fat?" broke in a voice at a 
 
134 THE JOES 
 
 distance. They looked and saw Sandy returning 
 with the shotgun and two or three quail. 
 
 "It's my pardner," explained Brown Joe. 
 
 "So you did write to us that you had a partner, 
 and a real good fellow you said he was, too. Do 
 you know, Joe, I think I'll fall desperately in love 
 with him, just because he is your partner?" 
 
 Sandy, in the meanwhile, had reached the porch 
 where they were standing, and looked curiously at 
 the pair. Brown was covered with confusion at 
 the situation, but nevertheless attempted to per- 
 form the ceremony of introduction. 
 
 "This is my pard, Miss," said Brown. "Sandy 
 we call him for short. This, pard, is a young lady 
 who has favored us with a visit. Don't know her 
 name, or I would tell yer." 
 
 "Don't know my name?" cried the young girl, 
 with a merry laugh. "Perhaps you don't know 
 your own, either?" 
 
 "Yes, I do," returned Joe, stoutly. "My name is 
 Joe Bagley, in any place." 
 
 "And yours?" she asked, turning to his com- 
 panion. 
 
 "My name is Joe Semple," said Sandy. 
 
 The young lady did not faint. Far from it. She 
 simply gave poor Brown Joe a look which made 
 him shrink in his boots, and turning to his partner, 
 
THE JOES 135 
 
 said: "Joe, I am your sister, Rosa." Then she 
 walked into the house, followed by Sandy. 
 
 "I guess I'd better make tracks for town and 
 speak for grub at Old Storms' hash house for a 
 while the way things look," muttered Brown Joe, 
 when they had been gone a few minutes. In pur- 
 suance of this laudable intention he had reached 
 the road and was about starting down it when his 
 partner's voice was heard : 
 
 "Which way, Joe?" 
 
 "Down to the Burg." 
 
 "Now, don't be a durned fool. Come back 
 here. We'll all go pretty soon and make some tem- 
 porary arrangements to stay there till we can get 
 things fixed up to keep her here. Come back, I 
 say." 
 
 ********* 
 
 In a little community like Last Chance, where 
 there is no daily arrival of the stage, no rush and 
 roar as the train comes puffing up to the depot ; no 
 telegraph to give us news of what is transpiring in 
 the outside world, the inhabitants, for the want of 
 something else to talk about, must of necessity, 
 talk about each other. Having thus given a reason 
 for the amount of local gossip which is to be found 
 in every country town, we have paved the way for 
 stating that the tongue of innocent gossip found 
 
136 THE JOES 
 
 rich theme in the acts of Brown Joe during the year 
 following the Christmas Day we have spoken of. 
 It was first a subject of gossip that Brown Joe had 
 taken extensively to the wearing of "biled shirts," 
 when in the judgment of many of his mining con- 
 freres he looked much better in a gray one. There 
 were several other articles of personal adornment 
 which Mr. Bagley indulged in, each of which, in 
 turn became the subject of invidious comment. But 
 when John Smith came to the front again, with the 
 astonishing information that Brown Joe was actu- 
 ally going to "split" his ticket at the coming elec- 
 tion, the quid nuncs took the matter into serious 
 consideration and unanimously resolved that 
 Brown Joe was "stuck to death after his pard's 
 sister," and that was what was the matter with Joe. 
 So far as the voting part was concerned I don't 
 think the aforesaid quid nuncs reached a wise con- 
 clusion, simply for the reason that when a man gets 
 older he generally has more sense, no matter what 
 his politics are, and besides, women don't often 
 bother themselves about politics, outside of Wyom- 
 ing. But otherwise I am inclined to think, in the 
 light of subsequent events, they were correct. At 
 any rate, the conclusion first came to by Sandy Joe 
 and his sister, that they would go back to "Sucker- 
 dom" the next year, was entirely abandoned, and 
 from some observations made to me by Brown Joe, 
 
THE JOES 137 
 
 just before I left Last Chance for Scrubb's Dig- 
 gings, I felt satisfied that my worthy friend 
 thought it was himself, and himself only, who had 
 persuaded Rosa to stay. 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 The storms of the winter had set in at last, and 
 the pitiless manner in which the rains were poured 
 upon the earth's surface indicated that the clouds 
 were making up for the long delay. Already each 
 little gulch and mountain swale was sending down 
 its tributary stream to swell the torrent which 
 foamed and roared as it sped on its way to old 
 Ocean. 
 
 In such a day, humanity studied its comfort by 
 remaining within doors, and it was only the unfor- 
 tunate possessors of claims in the extreme dry dig- 
 gings who were out at labor in the storm, for with 
 them, the reverse of the maxim, "Make hay while 
 the sun shines" obtained. But the gloomy weather 
 did not bring a corresponding feeling of gloom to 
 the hearts of the mining gentry of Central Hill. 
 No, no; for they had watched the skies anxiously 
 for weeks past, and now the roar of the wind 
 through the pine forests and the beating of the rain 
 against the window pane was sweet music to their 
 ears. 
 
 And to none did the sound of the beating 
 storm come more sweetly than to Cy. Billings. 
 
140 CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 And well it might be so, for Mr. Billings was one 
 of the mining princes of Central Hill. Rain meant 
 an increased water supply and more water meant 
 more golddust for him. What he wanted of more 
 dust, except to pile away with the thousands he 
 already must have in some safe place, was more 
 than his most intimate acquaintance could have con- 
 jectured. A covetous, grasping man, yet not 
 miserly (for he never stinted himself), without 
 wife, parent or kindred, it seemed as if the gifts of 
 God were misdirected, when such continued good 
 fortune followed one who used them for himself 
 alone, while others, more worthy and more needy, 
 struggled along, living from hand to mouth, as the 
 saying goes, though long hours of toil in the heat 
 of summer and storms of winter should have 
 brought them better fate. 
 
 Yet, he had not always been thus. Tradition, 
 faint, 'tis true, yet still extant, though it would 
 have been hard to tell the authority upon which it 
 rested, told of a time when Cyrus Billings was a 
 generous, warm-hearted fellow, happy in the love 
 of a beautiful girl, who had promised to become his 
 wife at a time in the near future. Already they 
 had fixed upon the place of their future home, a 
 neat little cottage at the foot of the mountain, where 
 the dark spruce trees cast their grateful shade 
 throughout the heated summer days, while in the 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 141 
 
 springtime the fragrant bloom of the thickly grow- 
 ing lilacs perfumed the air and gladdened the 
 vision. But Death tore his promised bride from 
 his outstretched arms, and in a few days more 
 came the news that the bank in which he had de- 
 posited his savings while preparing for the new life 
 in contemplation, had failed and left him penni- 
 less. For a time he left the place, whose associ- 
 ations were fraught with so much of both sorrow 
 and joy, and when months afterwards he came 
 back, he was an altered man. Then it was that he 
 found the claim on Central Hill which yielded 
 largely from the first. But, except that he sur- 
 rounded himself with more comforts than your 
 ordinary miner cares to have, his wealth did him 
 little good. 
 
 There was a lull in the storm, but Cyrus, ab- 
 sorbed in reading one of the many books with 
 which his cabin was supplied, did not notice it. 
 Pleased that matters were progressing so well to 
 his interest he had fallen into a reverie, from which 
 he was only aroused by a light tap at the door of 
 his cabin. Wondering who and what business any 
 one could have with him that could bring them 
 out on such a day as this had been, he opened the 
 door, and saw three ladies standing on the porch. 
 With two of these ladies he was acquainted, they 
 being the wives of the storekeeper and blacksmith, 
 
142 CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 with whom he generally did business, but the third 
 he had never seen. 
 
 "Why, ladies!" exclaimed Cyrus, astonished at 
 the sight, as well he might be. "Come in quick, 
 and get as near the fire as you can." And Cyrus 
 stirred the embers in the fire-place, put on a few 
 light sticks and soon had a cheerful blaze send- 
 ing a ruddy warmth to the chilled frames of his 
 guests. 
 
 The ladies were not slow in following his direc- 
 tions, and in due time Cyrus was introduced to the 
 stranger guest, who proved to be the sister of an 
 old partner of Cyrus. 
 
 "Our call is quite unlocked for, is it not, Mr* 
 Billings?" inquired Mrs. Simcoe, the blacksmith's 
 wife. 
 
 "Quite, indeed," responded that gentleman. 
 "This is not a day for any one to be out of doors." 
 
 "We went up to Forest Ridge this morning 
 when it looked pleasant, and have been detained 
 there by the storm. We took advantage of the lull 
 to start for home, and as your house was one we 
 designed visiting, stopped here on our way back. 
 We are out on a mission of charity." 
 
 At the mention of this ominous word Mr. Bil- 
 lings knit his brows, but showed no further interest, 
 so the speaker, after a moment continued: 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 143 
 
 "It is coming on to the days when all should re- 
 joice and be happy; but, in the dispensations of 
 Providence, it is so fated that all cannot. It is for 
 those who can to supply from their abundance, 
 that those who have not may feel that they are not 
 altogether forgotten. This paper will show you 
 more fully what we intend." 
 
 Cyrus took the proffered paper mechanically and 
 glanced at it. It set forth that those whose signa- 
 tures were appended had donated the sums set 
 opposite their names to the Ladies' Christmas 
 Committee for the purpose of enabling that body 
 to relieve the wants of certain poor families and 
 persons of Central Hill and vicinity, that they, too, 
 might participate in the enjoyments of the day. 
 
 "I don't think I shall help you any ladies," said 
 Mr. Billings, handing the paper back. "I ain't 
 much on the give. If people would work and take 
 care of what they earned, they wouldn't need help 
 for Christmas, or any other day." 
 
 "True, Mr. Billings, at times. But there are 
 times when the most worthy seem doomed to 
 misfortune, and even if people do bring trouble on 
 themselves we should not withhold our sympathies 
 in all cases. We are none of us perfect, and this 
 knowledge should lead us to be merciful to the im- 
 perfections of our fellows." 
 
144 CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 "You argue well, Mrs. Simcoe. But I never 
 have tried to help one I thought deserving, but I 
 found that I was, as the saying is, 'played.' Gave 
 ten dollars once to make up a subscription for a 
 chap that was knocked over by a blast. We made 
 up $250 for him and he kept the money, never paid 
 his doctor a cent but gambled it all away. The 
 sports had a fine time with our money. It's such 
 things as that, that I've seen happen more than 
 once, that sours me." 
 
 "No doubt, but there are some who are ungrate- 
 ful, but that should not deter us from following a 
 humane impulse. Let me tell you some of those 
 whom we desire to aid. There are, let me see, first, 
 the colored family at the Bend." 
 
 "Let the colored people help them!" interjected 
 Mr. Billings. 
 
 "Then there is Joe Simpson's folks. Joe, you 
 know, has been laid up with a broken arm. Six 
 little ones who were and are dependent upon his 
 day wages for each mouthful they eat." 
 
 "People that have nothing ahead to feed chil- 
 dren should not marry," replied Mr. Billings. 
 
 "But here is one case, Mr. Billings, which should 
 command your sympathy, if no other does. Mrs. 
 Battams and her children, whose husband and 
 father was killed in your own claim." 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 145 
 
 "Ladies," said Mr. Billings, slowly and delib- 
 erately, "I remember the morning Tom Battams 
 came to me for work, as well as though it were this 
 morning. He asked for work, and I told him, 
 'Yes, but the bank is mighty treacherous.' 'Can't 
 help it, boss/ says Tom; 'the babies must have 
 shoes.' And when Tom Battams went into the 
 claim to work he took his life in his hands, for the 
 extra wages I paid him. And now you think I 
 ought to feed his young ones. If I listened to what 
 you soft-hearted women style the 'calls of charity,' 
 it might not be long before I became an object of 
 charity myself." 
 
 It was evident that the ladies gave Mr. Billings' 
 case up as a hopeless one, for they said no more 
 upon the subject, and soon afterward took their 
 leave. Cyrus felt relieved when they had gone, 
 though he didn't like to admit it even to himself. 
 
 The short December day was drawing to a close, 
 and Cyrus resumed his interrupted readings. But, 
 somehow, its subject no longer interested him. 
 Despite himself, his mind would wander back a 
 time when, in the old Western homestead, he had 
 heard his father telling of the first years of his 
 married life. "When we fust spliced," the old man 
 said, "Becky an' I had nothin' but a feather bed, 
 a cow an' a few cookin' fixin's. I'd work two days 
 for Bob Henton, an' then he'd come with his oxens 
 
146 CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 an' plough a day for me. That was the fust year 
 an' I only had ploughin' done for a little garden 
 sass. Next year I had my own oxens an' I raised 
 some wheat to sell. Becky had chickens an' we 
 sold some eggs. But we got along an' allus had 
 each other." He thought of the happy home his 
 had been in childhood, and wondered how he could 
 have told the ladies, "that people who have nothing 
 should not get married." But his thoughts had 
 come too late. His book did not interest him now 
 and he changed it for another from the well-filled 
 shelves of his library, and, turning over the pages 
 listlessly, saw that he had taken down a volume of 
 Dickens (that master delineator of the human pas- 
 sions), which contained the beautiful story of 
 "Christmas Carol." It was a story he had read 
 and re-read in former years, finding some new 
 beauty in it each time, but today he felt no dis- 
 position to glance at its pages, each word of which 
 he felt would be a rebuke. 
 
 The surging of the storm without began again, 
 and Cyrus replenishing his fire prepared his soli- 
 tary meal. By the time it was eaten and washed 
 down with a glass of generous wine, night had 
 fallen. But Cyrus did not light his lamp, and still 
 sat at his place at table, communing with his 
 thoughts. Away back they went again, to the time 
 when, strong in the energy and hope of youth and 
 
"You have come, Mildred, come at last. How many years 
 I have wished for your coming." (See page 147.) 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 147 
 
 health, with the promise of a happy, happy future 
 before him, he was not the selfish, grasping man 
 he was today. He felt his lonely lot a hard one, 
 and rebelled at the decree of Divine Wisdom which 
 made it so. He bowed his head in the gathering 
 darkness and, resting it upon his hand, pursued the 
 train of thought which clung to him. 
 
 Suddenly the embers in the fire-place leaped into 
 flame and his cabin became as light as day. He 
 raised his eyes, and seated opposite him was the 
 form of her so often in his thoughts. Strange to 
 say, he was neither surprised nor the victim of 
 superstitious dread. He knew that the same storm 
 which raged at his door was beating on her grave, 
 yet the only thought which came into his mind was 
 one of wonder that she had entered the house with- 
 out him being aware of it. 
 
 "You have come, Mildred," said Cyrus. "Come 
 at last. How many years I have wished for your 
 coming. Why have you come now?" 
 
 "For you, Cyrus." 
 
 "I am ready to go. The world has had little for 
 me since you were taken away from it." 
 
 She looked at him with a grave, sad smile. 
 
 "The world, Cyrus, is as one makes it for him- 
 self. Yours has not been a pleasant one, but why?" 
 
 "Why? Because, when on the threshhold of 
 manhood, my hopes were blasted, and Time, which 
 
148 CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 heals the wounds of others brought no consolation 
 
 to me." 
 
 She made no answer to this, but rising beckoned 
 him to go with her, and together they passed out 
 of the door which opened of its own volition at 
 their approach. And, when they had crossed the 
 threshold they seemed to have left the cabin far 
 behind them. Cyrus looked to the right, where the 
 lights of the little village at the base of Central 
 Hill should have appeared at this hour, but all was 
 darkness there. Above their heads was a leaden 
 sky with threatening clouds moving slowly in the 
 direction they were walking. Soon they came to a 
 straggling row of houses, built of logs or shakes, 
 reminding Cyrus of the looks of Central Hill vil- 
 lage when first builded. 
 
 They stepped up to one of these and, looking 
 through the dirty window, saw a lot of men seated 
 at a table gaming. But though the game went on 
 without ceasing, none of the players seemed to de- 
 rive any pleasure. Indeed, it appeared that instead 
 of playing to win, each was playing to lose and the 
 winner each time reached for the money as though 
 compelled to, and with a reluctant hand. 
 
 They passed onward and soon came to another 
 house, where an old man sat surrounded by bags of 
 money. Some of the sacks were labeled "doub- 
 loons," some "eagles," while others bore the mark 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS DREAM 149 
 
 of the foreign silver coins which were so current in 
 the land at an early day. Ever and anon a ser- 
 vant or a clerk would enter bringing more money, 
 but the receipt of the treasure brought no pleasure 
 to the recipient. Yet he took it as handed him 
 and with a pained look put it into the sacks contain- 
 ing its kind, and turned, as if loathing it, away. 
 
 Many other houses they looked into, in each of 
 which the occupant was doomed relentlessly to fol- 
 low the selfish occupation he had pursued on earth. 
 Butchers, who stole and killed their neighbor's cat- 
 tle, merchants, who cheated in weight, lawyers, 
 who studied their books to get "points" by means 
 of which they hoped to rob the widow or orphan 
 of their inheritance on some quibble, doctors, who 
 preyed upon suffering humanity, that their purses 
 might be lengthened, all, and others were seen. 
 But at last the long straggling street came to an 
 end and they halted. 
 
 "Were any of those you saw of a type with your- 
 self, Cyrus?" 
 
 "Do you mean the man with the money?" asked 
 Cyrus, in a husky voice. 
 
 "It is well. When one knows his fault he is al- 
 ready on the road to repentance. In life that man 
 cared only for gain. Wealth flowed to him from 
 every quarter, and the more he acquired, the more 
 grasping and covetous did he become. Now, each 
 
150 ' CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 coin that comes to him is a curse, yet it is his pun- 
 ishment that he must continue to amass, as though 
 his salvation depended upon it." 
 
 "And must he thus continue forever?" 
 
 "God is merciful and God is just. Would it be 
 the part of either justice or mercy to punish for an 
 eternity the sins of time?" 
 
 Cyrus turned to look back over the route they 
 had traversed, and when he turned again to his 
 companion the landscape was changed. The air 
 was soft and balmy as in spring time, the leaden, 
 heavy clouds which had accompanied them on this 
 journey thus far had given place to a blue and 
 smiling sky, while the notes of bird and the chirp- 
 ing of cheerful insect life filled the air. As they 
 went forward on their resumed journey he saw that 
 they were in a country of happy people, as from 
 time to time they met with those who invariably 
 greeted them with a pleasant smile. 
 
 As they passed along through the streets of a 
 beautiful city, Cyrus was surprised at hearing his 
 own name called. He turned in the direction of 
 the voice and a little girl grasped his hand and 
 welcomed him. 
 
 "I don't remember you, my little friend," said 
 Cyrus. 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 "But I do you, and did the moment I saw you. 
 Don't you remember George Martin's little girl, 
 that was sick so long?" 
 
 "George Martin. Yes, I do; but that was many 
 years ago." 
 
 "When I was so sick I could not get up you 
 came in with papa one day. You seemed so sorry 
 for me, and when you went away sent me a doll 
 with curly hair and eyes that opened and shut." 
 
 "I remember now," said Cyrus, his heart beat- 
 ing with pleasure at the thought of the little one's 
 grateful remembrance. "But that was only a 
 trifle." 
 
 "Yet if you could have seen the many hours of 
 pleasure that trifle gave me, you would have been 
 rewarded. And when I came away Dollie came 
 with me." 
 
 If Mr. Billings experienced one tithe the feeling 
 of pleasure at the moment he gave George Mar- 
 tin's sick child the little gift which had proven such 
 a treasure to her, as he did now at the recollections 
 of it, our only wonder is that he did not keep on 
 fruitful in good works to the end. But he had not, 
 for the very next person he saw made his heart 
 shrink with regret at the lost opportunities, gone 
 never to return. 
 
 It was Tom Battams. Tom, whose tragic death 
 and suffering family. had been the subject of con- 
 
152 CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 versation but that very day. Tom, whose claim 
 upon his abundance had seemed so strong to the 
 ladies that they had brought it to his mind with a 
 confidence that should have been justified by suc- 
 cess. But the appeal had been vain. 
 
 "If my life was to live over again, Mildred, I 
 should be a different man. But it is now too late." 
 
 "Too late, perhaps, for the days that are passed, 
 but not too late for those that are yet to come. But 
 time passes I cannot have you with me long." 
 
 Many places in the beautiful city they visited 
 and at each turn they took they met the form of 
 some one whom Cyrus had known in the past ere 
 he or she had crossed the dark river. All looked 
 at them with pleasant looks of welcome, and no 
 words of reproach fell from the lips of any, though 
 again and again they would come unbidden to the 
 man's heart. They retraced their steps to the point 
 where they had seen the little girl, when Mildred 
 spoke : 
 
 "We must now part, Cyrus, let me hope for a 
 brief time only. One last word before you return. 
 Here we are free from the curse of the world 
 selfishness. We leave that behind when we put 
 off the mortal form and rise to a higher sphere. 
 We cannot return to the scenes of earth life to 
 counsel and advise the loved ones we leave behind, 
 but we know of their deeds and pray for their hap- 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS DREAM 153 
 
 piness. It is written that it 'is not good for man 
 to be alone, and that woman was created for the 
 companion of man.' The heart-strings may be 
 strained in the agonies of sorrow, but with the 
 passage of Time should come soft, sad memories, 
 and resignation to the will of Omnipotence. Man 
 can cherish the memory of and do his duty by the 
 
 dead, and yet love and do his duty by the living." 
 
 ******** * 
 
 Mr. Billings slowly raised his head from the 
 table on which it had lain and for a moment was 
 bewildered. He did not know whether he was at 
 home in his own cabin, or still in the shadow land 
 of his dream. The fire had again burned low, and 
 the few embers remaining sent forth a dim, flick- 
 ering, uncertain light. 
 
 He looked across the table more than half ex- 
 pecting to see Mildred sitting in the place where it 
 still seemed she must be, but the uncertain light re- 
 vealed nothing save the background of the cup- 
 board from which he had taken the materials for 
 his supper. 
 
 The rain had ceased again and a glance through 
 the window revealed the sight of a few stars strug- 
 gling through the obscurity of the sky. Cyrus 
 rose and throwing a few light sticks upon the em- 
 bers soon had the room lighted with a cheerful 
 glow. 
 
154 CYRUS BILLINGS DREAM 
 
 u Oh, Mildred, Mildred," he exclaimed, looking 
 toward the spot again where she had been seated. 
 "Often and again have I wished you could come to 
 me in my dreams. Why, oh why did you not come 
 before ?" 
 
 His soliloquy was cut short by the sound of an 
 approaching footstep. It came up to the door and 
 after a little hesitation there was a timid rap. Cy- 
 rus opened the door, and saw one of the hands usu- 
 ally employed in the claim standing outside. 
 
 "Come in Sam," said Cyrus. Sam entered and 
 waited uneasily until bidden to take a seat. 
 
 "Ditch broke?" asked Cyrus. 
 
 "No, the ditch is all right. Jim went up and 
 opened the waste gates yesterday. I went over the 
 line myself this afternoon. There was a little slide 
 at Pigeon Point, but it is all shoveled out now, and 
 there is no danger." 
 
 Mr. Billings' mind being thus relieved on this 
 subject (for he had some misgivings as to the 
 safety of his water way), he sat rather impatiently 
 for Sam's business to be made known. But that 
 gentleman seemed to be in no hurry. 
 
 "I was just getting ready to go to the store, 
 Sam," said Cyrus, at length. "Is there anything 
 you want to tell me of?" 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Billings. I thought I would come 
 and see if you would do me a little favor if you 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS DREAM 155 
 
 can. You know last season was pretty short and 
 I didn't get in a great deal of time. It's been a 
 bad time for getting odd jobs about the Hill this 
 summer, and the grass has been pretty short at our 
 house. Wife was saying today, that if we could 
 only get some shoes for the children, with some 
 cheap playthings, it would be so nice for them 
 Christmas. I didn't tell her I was coming here, 
 but I thought that now that water had come and I 
 could begin work soon as the ditch banks were set- 
 tled, maybe you'd advance me a few dollars." 
 
 Sam delivered himself of this request in a hesi- 
 tating way, and it was tolerably certain from his 
 manner that he expected a refusal. And, indeed, 
 it would be only in consonance with Cyrus' man- 
 ner of doing business if his surmise should prove 
 correct, for Mr. Billings had a theory, founded 
 upon strict business principles, that a "good pay- 
 master paid when the work was done," etc. 
 
 "How much will you want, Sam?" inquired Cy- 
 rus. 
 
 "I thought maybe you could spare ten dollars," 
 said Sam, scarcely believing his own ears. "If you 
 can't we'll have to get along with less." 
 
 Mr. Billings drew forth his purse and deposited 
 a coin in Sam's outstretched hand. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Billings, you have made a mistake; 
 this is a twenty and I have no change." 
 
156 CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 "So it is," said Cyrus, looking at it as if he now 
 saw it for the first time. "Well, IVe nothing 
 smaller, and you can work out twenty as well as 
 ten. It starts in for a good season and I ain't 
 afraid but you'll be on hand. Now, if that's all, 
 I'll ask you to excuse me, for I want to go to the 
 store tonight." 
 
 The two left the cabin and proceeded down to 
 the collection of houses called the "burg," where 
 they parted company, Sam hastening home to com- 
 municate the good tidings to his wife, while Cyrus 
 bent his steps to the store. The weather was not 
 propitious for the assemblage of "stove sharps," 
 and there were, consequently, not many idlers at 
 that place when he entered. He was received with 
 the deference due to a successful mine owner, from 
 whom business favors had been received in the past 
 and from whom it was reasonable to suppose more 
 would be received in the future, so when he 
 stepped up to one of the urbane proprietors and ex- 
 pressed his desire for that gentleman to take down 
 an "order," his wish was complied with with com- 
 mendable alacrity. 
 
 "Put down a couple of hundred of flour, to be- 
 gin with," said Cyrus. 
 
 "Two hundred of flour. Anything else?" 
 
 "A barrel of sugar and box of tea." 
 
 "Sugar and tea." 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 157 
 
 "A couple of sacks of something for chicken 
 feed." 
 
 "Two sacks of wheat. Anything else?' 1 
 
 "You might put in some bacon, some rice and 
 some dried fruit, I guess. That's all." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Billings. Our mules will be 
 quite busy tomorrow as the day after, you know, 
 will be Christmas. Will you want it right away?" 
 
 "Tomorrow if you please. And see here," 
 added Cyrus, bending over the counter, "I'd like 
 to have you take the stuff up and leave it at the 
 Widow Battams." 
 
 "Certainly, certainly," said the storekeeper, with 
 a pleased expression. "It shall be done as you 
 wish and there is not a thing in the lot will come 
 amiss I assure you. I think times have been pretty 
 nippin' up there for quite a while." 
 
 Cyrus' next visit was to the blacksmith's home. 
 Here he found, not only Mrs. Simcoe, but Miss 
 Styles, the sister of his old partner, and who had 
 been to his house with Mrs. Simcoe that day. As 
 the last named lady was one with whom he had 
 become acquainted only that day, he felt a trifle 
 embarrassed. 
 
 But the ladies, notwithstanding the refusal they 
 had received that day from him were very pleas- 
 ant, for the prospects of a good season had opened 
 the hearts and purses of those who had been called 
 
158 CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 
 
 upon, generally, and they were well satisfied with 
 the total result of their labors. They awaited only 
 the arrival of others of the committee before they 
 decided upon the special uses to which the bounty 
 they had should be put. Cyrus soon got an inkling 
 of this and governed himself accordingly. 
 
 "I have thought better of what we talked of 
 today, ladies, and have come to the conclusion that 
 I ought to add a little to the list." And Cyrus laid 
 $20 on the table. "But I want to couple this with 
 a condition." 
 
 The ladies looked at him with surprise. But at 
 last Mrs. Simcoe asked: "What is the condition 
 you refer to?" 
 
 "Well, this. Whatever you do for the Battams 
 family, let it be something to wear. That's all." 
 
 While they were not as yet posted as to the rea- 
 sons Mr. Billings had for coupling this condition 
 with his gift, they felt that they must be potent and 
 readily agreed to his request. Soon other members 
 of the committee came and Cyrus was turned over 
 to his old partner's sister for entertainment, she, 
 being a recent arrival at the Hill, leaving the de- 
 tails to her co-workers. She must have been quite 
 successful as an entertainer for though the delib- 
 erations of the committee were quite lengthy, the 
 two found so much to talk about that it was not un- 
 til all minor matters were agreed upon and the lady 
 
CYRUS BILLINGS' DREAM 159 
 
 visitors took their departure that Cyrus rose to go. 
 It was not long before the quid nuncs of Central 
 Hill found ample food for conversation in the 
 change which had come over Cy. Billings. Vari- 
 ous causes were assigned therefore, the most gen- 
 erally accepted one being that it was because he de- 
 sired to find favor in the eyes of Gertrude Styles, 
 and there is good warrant for this belief, for his 
 attentions to that lady soon became marked. How- 
 ever much this may have aided in changing him 
 permanently it is not for us to hazard a guess, but if 
 the aforesaid quid nuncs had known of the dream 
 which came to him on that stormy December day, 
 some, at least of them would not have been long in 
 arriving at the true conclusion. 
 
BILL'S LUCK 
 
 Of course he had been in love. That, however, 
 was but a natural consequence to masculine hu- 
 manity, for the male biped who passes the age of 
 discretion without a touch of the tender passion 
 would be an anomaly in human nature. And of 
 course he had been loved in return, that is, if he had 
 judged the feelings of the fair one correctly. That 
 was not so natural I thought, for as I looked at 
 "Unlucky Bill" while he was pouring his sorrows 
 into my sympathizing ear, there didn't seem to be 
 much that was very loveable bound up in the mud- 
 stained garments that encased his manly form. Yet 
 I ought to have accepted his belief implicitly, 
 knowing that far more "ornery-looking" men than 
 he were happy husbands and daddies, and that 
 every "Jack has his Jill," if fate happens to throw 
 them together. 
 
 Probably the fact of Bill having been so uni- 
 formly unfortunate that the sobriquet of "Un- 
 lucky" was generally and rightfully prefixed to his 
 name, prejudiced my judgment. Probably I 
 thought him too much out of luck to inspire a genu- 
 ine attachment in any feminine breast. For what- 
 
1 62 BILL'S LUCK 
 
 ever Bill turned his hand to seemed to turn against 
 him. If he " wing-dammed," it was a safe bet that 
 he would find that he had only drained a "pot 
 hole," and no honest miner requires to be told that 
 not one in a hundred of these places ever pay any- 
 thing. If he sunk a shaft he would strike down on 
 a high spur of bed-rock, without a ghost of a color 
 to be found. If he bought into a claim that was 
 paying well, the chances were that the "lead" 
 would give out by the time he got his money back, 
 leaving him minus for grub and gum boots. But 
 Bill was generally hopeful to the last; at each fail- 
 ure, after some general objurgations of his "luck" 
 he was ready to pitch in again. In his case, how- 
 ever, the old adage of the "long lane which has no 
 turning" seemed at fault. How could such an un- 
 lucky devil hope to inspire genuine love? 
 
 But I never for a moment questioned but Bill 
 had loved with all the ardor of his nature. He 
 was just the kind of a chap to indulge in some hope- 
 less passion and not one either of the sickly kind 
 which crops out with the first fuz on the upper lip. 
 And I was equally prepared to believe that his 
 heart's delight had "throwed him" when he failed 
 to come back within the time which he had set for 
 the limit of his stay. Poor Bill! His case was 
 only one out of ten thousand in the same year. 
 
BILL'S LUCK 163 
 
 " 'Tis said that absence conquers love," and the 
 youths who sought fortune in the Golden State dur- 
 ing its first years are ready to certify to its truth. 
 And I don't know that I care to censure the de- 
 linquent fair ones either. 
 
 It was a bleak day, past the middle of Decem- 
 ber, when Unlucky Bill let me into this secret pas- 
 sage of his past history. What caused him to un- 
 bosom himself was this : I happened along by the 
 tunnel he had been running into Coyote Flat just 
 as he finished washing up his "drift dirt," which 
 the rains now furnished him water to do. The tun- 
 nel added another to the list of Bill's failures at 
 mining, though he felt hopeful that there was 
 something "just ahead." After narrating his ex- 
 periences in this tunnel Bill had branched out, giv- 
 ing me a retrospect of his experience with pick and 
 pan, and wound up by assuring me that if he had 
 had the least particle of a luck" at the proper time, 
 he, too, might have been a benedict like myself. 
 This aroused my curiosity, and I proceeded to 
 u draw him out," wherein I met with great success. 
 
 "And would you b'lieve it," said Unlucky, in 
 conclusion, "if she didn't go and marry the last 
 chap I'd 'a thought of; a regular no-account that 
 she wouldn't hardly talk to when I was thar." 
 
 "Girls take queer notions, sometimes, Bill; but 
 I should have thought her being engaged to you 
 
164 BILL'S LUCK 
 
 would have kept her from letting the fellow make 
 up to her." 
 
 "Well, we weren't exactly engaged," said Bill, 
 sheepishly. "You see I was sorter bashful, and 
 hadn't quite axed her if it was all right. But then 
 I'd took her everywhere, and got things for her, 
 and I thought the thing was as good as settled, any- 
 how. Cuss the luck." 
 
 "Don't 'cuss' anything but yourself, Bill; if 
 that's all you had to go on. I don't see as the girl 
 was to blame. Maybe if you'd spoke out like you 
 should it would have been all right. You can't ex- 
 pect a woman to take everything for granted, you 
 know." 
 
 This was evidently a new light to Bill. 
 
 "Maybe you're right," he said. "I never thought 
 of that. Cuss it." 
 
 "Well, you lost her, Bill, and it's hardly worth 
 while asking how at this late day. But, take my 
 advice. There's as good fish in the sea as were 
 ever caught out of it. Get some one to fight the 
 battles of life with you, instead of roughing it the 
 way you do, and my word for it, you'll be better 
 for it at the end of a year. Come down to the 
 Christmas tree next week and I'll put you on the 
 trail of a young widow that moved in last week, 
 with a family already started for you." 
 
BILL'S LUCK 165 
 
 "Widder be hanged !" growled Unlucky. "And 
 children, too. How many is there of them?" 
 
 "Three, all girls." 
 
 "Well, do you see that tunnel? I made just six 
 bits a day while running it, enough, I guess, to 
 keep them little imps in shoes. Now wouldn't I be 
 a sweet old chap for a widder?" 
 
 Unlucky Bill was so highly pleased at the 
 thought of marrying on the daily income he had 
 named, that he broke out into a hearty guffaw, the 
 first symptom of returning spirits he had shown 
 since the wash-up panned out so poorly. But in 
 justice to that worthy I must say that his failures 
 never kept him down long at a time, for he was 
 one of the irrepressibles. 
 
 "Never mind the widow, Bill, I didn't think you 
 would take seriously to the notion. But I do want 
 you to come down, just to see how the little fellows 
 will enjoy the fun; it'll do you good." 
 
 It was with some apparent reluctance that Mr. 
 Shively gave me the required promise, but he did 
 give it. And when Christmas eve was come, among 
 the guests at the Mule City Hotel was Unlucky 
 Bill. 
 
 If I had space I should like to describe the array 
 of beauty there which graced the occasion, with an 
 elaborate description of the toilettes of the ladies, 
 but as the whole matter was duly reported in the 
 
1 66 BILL'S LUCK 
 
 local paper at the time, I will refer my readers 
 thereto for further particulars. 
 
 The extreme bashfulness of Mr. Shively kept 
 him pretty well in the background and it was not 
 until the presents from the tree were all distributed 
 and the squeaking of the fiddles had been heard 
 some time that I was able to catch sight of that 
 worthy. He was then standing outside the door 
 and making frantic efforts to attract my atten- 
 tions. I went to him at once. 
 
 "Say, Jim, what woman's that in the speckled 
 caliker dress?" 
 
 "That's the new widow I was telling you of. 
 Come on, and I'll make you acquainted." 
 
 "No no no ! Jim, this is the cussedest luck. 
 Jim, that's her!" 
 
 "And who's 'her'?" 
 
 "Don't you know? Betsy Jane." 
 
 "And who the devil may Betsy Jane be?" 
 
 "The one I told you of. That's her surer than 
 Scripter, and Jim, I'm nearly pizoned to know 
 what sent her up this way?" 
 
 The curiosity of my friend being a very laudible 
 one I set myself to work to gratify it, and after 
 confiding to my wife enough of Bill's history to 
 awaken her interest (for women must have a why 
 and wherefore for everything) , I learned all that 
 was necessary. The Widow Clyne had laid the 
 
BILL'S LUCK 167 
 
 lamented gentleman of that name under the chap- 
 arral some eight calendar months previous, in the 
 rival village of Dogtown. She had remained near 
 the last resting place of the departed until grub 
 was hard to get, when she removed to our flourish- 
 ing city and was now ready to take in dressmak- 
 ing. I also learned that the late Mr. Clyne had, 
 during the last few years' tarry on earth, developed 
 a weakness for gin cocktails, keno, and other inno- 
 cent but expensive amusements, so that when finally 
 he was borne out of his house he left but very lit- 
 tle of this world's goods behind him in it; and that 
 the widow had been compelled to do some pretty 
 lively "scratching" to make everything come out 
 just right. 
 
 "What did they git on the Christmas tree?" 
 asked Bill, when I had communicated to him the 
 information gathered from my affectionate spouse. 
 
 I was sorry to tell him that as the widow's circle 
 of acquaintance was limited, the Christmas offer- 
 ings to the Clyne family had been somewhat 
 meagre. 
 
 "She shall have ten yards of the best linsey in the 
 store for each of them gals," said Bill. "And just 
 as nice a dress pattern for herself as can be found. 
 Now, you go with me and pick 'em out. Fix up 
 some yarn about their being left for the tree, and 
 forgot till just now, can't you?" 
 
1 68 BILL'S LUCK 
 
 Of course I could. We hunted up the store- 
 keeper, made the required purchases and were back 
 in no time, as we thought. But the widow had 
 gathered up her brood and was gone. 
 
 "Just my luck," said Bill, when this fact was 
 made known to him. "I might a knowed it. But 
 I'm sot on her having them things tonight, if I 
 have to break one of her winders." 
 
 He took a pencil and wrote on the thick brown 
 paper, "From a friend." Then armed with the 
 bundle we took our way to the widow's domicile. 
 But that excellent lady having the cares and duties 
 of the morrow before her mind had retired to rest 
 and all was silent as a Quaker meeting, before the 
 "spirit" begins to move. 
 
 "My old luck, again," growled Bill, as he took 
 in the situation. "Never mind; there's more ways 
 to kill a cat than choking with butter. If I can 
 find her clothes line, I'll send this package down 
 her chimbly." 
 
 "Be careful, old fellow! Some of these Cali- 
 fornia widows keep a revolver close by, and they 
 shoot mighty wild. Them things will keep till 
 tomorrow." 
 
 Mr. Shively was too mad to listen to reason, and 
 was lucky enough to find the desired clothes line. 
 Having securely fastened one end to the bundle, 
 he began to cautiously make his way up the sloping 
 
BILL'S LUCK 169 
 
 woodshed towards the chimney. For once fortune 
 seemed to favor him ; the bundle was placed within 
 the chimney and was being gently lowered when 
 there was a crash of falling timbers, two or three 
 huge oaths, and Bill came limping out of the ruins 
 just as a series of feminine shrieks broke on the 
 silence of midnight. 
 
 "I've nearly broke my infernal leg," said he, 
 rubbing the injured member. "Just my sweet- 
 scented luck again. For mercy's sake, Jim, do try 
 and stop that woman's yawp. She'll yell herself 
 into conniption fits and have the town here in a 
 minute more. Don't be skeered, Betsy Jane! 
 Oh-h-h, darling, don't holler so !" 
 
 Whether from the tenderness of the adjuration, 
 or because she had already screamed herself hoarse, 
 the widow quieted down, and we made tracks. 
 Unlucky Bill didn't show his face for the next three 
 days, and when he did it was only with a fresh tale 
 of trouble. 
 
 In the meanwhile, however, the widow had not 
 been slow in her endeavors to find out the mystery 
 of that broken shed roof, and thanks to the knack 
 women have of getting at anything which concerns 
 themselves, had not only learned who it was that 
 had been so generous on that occasion, but had also 
 gathered all the information in regard to Mr. Shiv- 
 ely's antecedents that Ara vesta (my adorable 
 
170 BILL'S LUCK 
 
 wife) could pump out of me. And the result was 
 that the juvenile Clynes were set on the watch, and 
 my unlucky friend had not much more than set his 
 foot into town when he received an intimation that 
 his presence was desired at the widow's hospitable 
 dwelling. 
 
 What transpired at the interview I did not learn 
 at once, but as Bill lamented over the "bad streak" 
 which kept him so "infernal poor," I judged that 
 there had been a fresh kindling of the sacred pas- 
 sion in his manly heart. If this was the case, how- 
 ever, the second course of true love didn't appear 
 to be running any more smoothly for my unlucky 
 friend than the first had done. I was led to this 
 sorrowful conclusion by Bill tramping in excitedly 
 a day or two before New Year, with the most 
 elongated visage I ever saw on a mortal. I knew 
 at once that the details of some fresh misfortune 
 were about to be rehearsed to me. 
 
 "Well, what is it, Bill?" 
 
 "Oh, the same infernal luck. Tunnels caved 
 and I have got to start in from the front. It's too 
 bad just as I was getting good prospects, too." 
 
 "Can't you clean out the cave, timber up, and go 
 on?" 
 
 "Daresn't try it, the ground's cracked all the 
 way back. It must have been mighty loose over- 
 head and Betsy Jane told me if I'd only said any- 
 
BILL'S LUCK 
 
 thing, she'd a waited, oh ever so long ! But the 
 jig's up now; for a while, any way." 
 
 "Well, Bill, it is pretty hard luck, but I wouldn't 
 start in from the front again, if I were in your 
 place. I'd put in a few boxes, turn on a head of 
 water from Flap-jack Gulch and sluice back to 
 your prospects. You'll be apt to make grub, any- 
 way." 
 
 Bill said he would do it. I went up next morn- 
 ing and helped him set the boxes, and by night he 
 had cleaned out an old ditch and had the water 
 running through. 
 
 I did not see my friend again until New Year's 
 night. Then he came into the store, where I was 
 loafing, beckoned me to one side, and unfolding a 
 roll of rags he carried in his hand, showed me a 
 nice little pile of dust. 
 
 "What's this, Bill?" 
 
 "The best luck in the world, Jim, I'm cussed if 
 it ain't. Turned off the water tonight, to see if I 
 could see the color, and the boxes were just lousy. 
 Gold all in the gravel, and I've been running un- 
 der the lead all the time. I've got the best claim 
 in the county and I'll marry Betsy Jane tomorrow. 
 Have you to thank for it and you shall have a half- 
 interest. Not in Betsy Jane in the claim." 
 
 But why use up time and paper in describing the 
 happiness which now came to these two long-sev- 
 
172 BILL'S LUCK 
 
 ered hearts? Unlucky had struck it at last, and if 
 you go to Mule City today you will hear some of 
 the old residenters speak of the former fabulous 
 richness of Coyote Flat. The young Clyne dam- 
 sels have grown up, married and gone from the 
 maternal roof, but Bill's luck never left him from 
 that happy New Year to this day. 
 
THE FERRY 
 
 A bleak December day. Overhead the leaden 
 clouds hung like a pall, moving slowly to the north- 
 ward giving token of a continuance of the storm 
 which had been raging for the three days past. It 
 was near to the evening hour but the wight who, 
 for any reason, had passed the day in slumber, 
 could not have told from the sky whether it were 
 the morning, noontide or evening hour, for there 
 was no rift in the clouds which showed in what 
 quarter the god of day lay. 
 
 The old ferryman stood under the little porch 
 in front of his door watching the flood of the river. 
 The ferry rope had been hauled taut and the boat 
 hauled as far in shore as the descending road 
 would permit and, besides being fastened to the 
 rope, was made yet more secure by being lashed 
 with a stout cord to a great cottonwood tree far 
 up the bank. The brow of the old man was clouded 
 like the sky above, and well it might be, for the 
 flood was not yet at its height, yet the rushing cur- 
 rent had risen until the rolling waves in mid-stream 
 leaped up to within a terribly short distance of the 
 rope. Already the channel was bearing down 
 
174 THE FERRY 
 
 great timbers from where the miners had built their 
 wing dams the summer before, while at times, a 
 lordly spruce, uprooted bodily, came floating 
 down, and the tough, strong branches reaching 
 above the surface had more than once tested the 
 strength of the good rope stretching across the 
 stream. And aside from the desire to see the de- 
 struction of his property, if it were to be destroyed, 
 was the fascination which comes to us all when we 
 see the forces of nature gather to sweep away the 
 puny structures erected by man. How often have 
 we felt that fascination when the flames started up 
 and aided by its allied element, the air, move on to 
 the destruction of some great city, when the proud 
 edifices were, one after another leveled to the earth 
 and in their places left naught but the blackened 
 masses of granite and shapeless ribs of twisted 
 steel which but the day before we thought could 
 defy the combined forces of all the elements. So 
 it was fascinating to gaze upon the flood of water 
 as it rolled onward to mingle its turbid volume 
 with the blue waves of the ocean. 
 
 The season so far had given promise of what 
 the miners wanted a "wet winter. " The fall rains 
 had saturated the parched earth and covered the 
 mountains around with a dazzling vesture of snow. 
 Then had come this storm, cold at first, but grow- 
 ing warmer as it progressed, until the sodden snow, 
 
THE FERRY 175 
 
 yielding at last, turned each little gulch into a rivu- 
 let, and each swale into a ravine. And the river, 
 already swollen beyond the high water-mark of 
 former years, surged on. 
 
 "Father, father; don't stand there in the cold 
 all day. You don't want to be sick again, do you ?" 
 
 The speaker, who had opened the door behind 
 him, here came out upon the little porch. She was 
 a girl of seventeen or eighteen and while her form 
 was that of the old ferryman, the blue eyes and 
 golden locks, with her clear complexion and regu- 
 lar features showed that she had taken her beauty 
 from her mother's side. 
 
 "Hardly, lass," said the old man, his stern fea- 
 tures relaxing into a smile, as he looked upon the 
 girl. "But I have been kept a prisoner so long in- 
 doors that it is pleasant to be out of doors once 
 more. The rain seems to have quit for a little. I'll 
 go over the road and see if the river has got up to 
 Johnny's cabin yet." 
 
 He walked across the road and left the girl 
 standing in the doorway. Across the road was a 
 fence, forming part of the enclosure of a rich piece 
 of bottom land where he had cultivated a little gar- 
 den. Folding his arms on the fence he leaned for- 
 ward upon them. 
 
 The cabin of "Johnny," whoever he might be, 
 which was the apparent object of his solicitude, 
 
1 76 THE FERRY 
 
 was seen to be yet in place, though the seething 
 waters had cut their way behind it. He turned to 
 speak to the girl, but she had gone back into the 
 house, and his eyes were turned in another direc- 
 tion. This was toward a little knoll, where a single 
 white paling betokened a lone grave, that of the 
 mother of his child. As he stood leaning there, 
 thoughts of the past rushed to his mind, and for a 
 time he became oblivious to the leaden sky, the 
 swollen river and all else. A few drops of cold 
 rain falling on his bare hands aroused him and he 
 turned to go towards the house when the sound of 
 approaching footsteps in the path above him, 
 caused him to stop and look up. 
 
 The stranger whose arrival was thus heralded 
 came down the path and the mud on his pants and 
 boots, as well as the soaked condition of his hat 
 and upper garments, showed that he had traveled 
 some distance in the storm. In years he was young, 
 not to exceed twenty-five, at most. He stopped as 
 he came near the old man : 
 
 "Is this Gaunt's Ferry?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Can you take me over, at once?" 
 
 The old man looked at him with undisguised as- 
 tonishment. "What! Cross the river tonight! 
 No, it cannot be done !" 
 
THE FERRY 177 
 
 "It's a matter of life or death to me. Take me 
 
 over." 
 
 "It will be a matter of life or death, probably 
 death to us both, to attempt to cross. No, I tell 
 you." 
 
 "I will pay you the worth of your boat. Money 
 is no object to me at this time." He thrust his 
 hand into the side pocket of his coat and brought 
 out a handful of black and gray sand and gold with 
 two or three bright nuggets mixed in. The old 
 man cast upon him a glance of suspicion. 
 
 "Money is an object to me. I have one to gain 
 it for to hoard it for." 
 
 He took a buckskin purse from his pocket and 
 poured its contents into his hand. There was one 
 of the octagonal "slugs" which passed as currency 
 in those days. "Should you give me a hundred of 
 those I would not take my boat out into the cur- 
 rent tonight." 
 
 The young man turned sadly away. "Then I 
 must make my way to some place where there are 
 more people. How far from here is the nearest 
 town?" 
 
 "There is the Third Crossing, three miles be- 
 low," said the old man, in a more kindly tone. 
 "But you are wet and weary. We do not keep 
 travelers here, but I guess my girl can give you a 
 bit and sup while you " 
 
178 THE FERRY 
 
 He was interrupted by a loud shout of exulta- 
 tion coming from the trail above. Looking up 
 they saw a half dozen men, making their way 
 towards them. 
 
 "It's all the same now," said the young man. 
 4 'They were closer after me than I thought. They 
 would have shot me in cold blood while crossing." 
 
 "But why in God's name should they shoot at 
 you at all? What have you done?" 
 
 "Defended my rights, that is all. One of their 
 gang attacked me and I hurt him pretty bad. He 
 may die. I hope not, for I want no man's blood on 
 my conscience." 
 
 The old man went hastily into the house, but re- 
 turned almost instantly. By this time the foremost 
 of the party had reached where the young man was 
 standing. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Sutherlin, you didn't get away as 
 easy as you thought. Hoped to get to Hangtown, 
 did you, where your friends could hide you ? We 
 may have a little hangtown of our own, which you 
 won't like so well." 
 
 "I was not going to Hangtown, but to the 
 county seat where I could find the sheriff and let 
 him do what is right, and let justice be done." 
 
 "Very likely story ! You'll get justice you won't 
 like if Joe Davis passes in his checks. If there's a 
 chance for him to get well, we'll let him say, but 
 
THE FERRY 179 
 
 you can't stay there any more. We want no claim- 
 jumpers in our diggings." 
 
 "That's his story, Mr. Gaunt; now hear mine. 
 I took up a claim near these men where no signs of 
 work was shown. I spent two months getting 
 ready to work it, and no one said a word. When 
 they found the claim was paying good, this man, 
 Davis, came over and said the claim was his. I 
 tried to reason with him but he would not be rea- 
 soned with. I had nearly finished panning out my 
 week's work when he came. He grabbed the pan, 
 then I hit him with a rock. I saw two of his friends 
 coming and I just emptied the dust in this pocket 
 and left. I was a stranger there and had no friend 
 to help me. You see their plan if Davis dies 
 they'll get rid of me and take the claim themselves 
 and if he lives, they'll kindly let me live, if I will go 
 away, unless they think better to put me out of the 
 way at once." 
 
 "Very well done, young feller. You'd make a 
 good lawyer; you can tell so smooth a tale. But 
 you're going back with us just the same. Now you 
 can start back up that hill, and be quick about it." 
 
 "Not a step do I go. If you are going to mur- 
 der me, do it here, and now." 
 
 "Who's talking about murder, fool? If we 
 want to we'll lash you on a horse and you'll see how 
 you'll like that." 
 
180 THE FERRY 
 
 The rest of the pursuing party had reached the 
 foot of the hill, and it was clear that while he who 
 had been spokesman thus far was leader of the 
 party, it was equally clear that some of his follow- 
 ers dissented with him, now that other witnesses 
 than their own crowd had turned up. So, when 
 Mr. Gaunt spoke up, there was a marked attention 
 manifested. 
 
 "Let's have no talk of murder, or violence, but 
 it would be little less than downright murder to 
 make that young man return over the same road he 
 came. When he reached here he could hardly drag 
 one foot after the other. Let him stay here tonight 
 and in the morning we can take him to the officers." 
 
 "There's sense in what the old man says," said 
 one of the footmen, who clearly had no relish for 
 a night journey over the road they had just come. 
 "Let's talk it over." 
 
 The pursuers went out by themselves and for a 
 few minutes were engaged in an animated discus- 
 sion. Sutherlin improved the opportunity thus 
 afforded to place the ferryman in possession of all 
 the facts relating to the trouble and was assured 
 that he would not be left to the tender mercies of 
 the wounded man's friends without an effort, at 
 least, to prevent it. 
 
 The storm at this time was again raging 
 furiously, and no doubt was a potent factor for the 
 
THE FERRY l8l 
 
 crowd to arrive at the conclusion to which it came. 
 The old man led the way into the house and, heap- 
 ing fresh fuel upon the fire, turned to hear the 
 result of their conference. 
 
 "We will stay here, as you propose, but where 
 will we put that chap to keep him safe, and where 
 will we sleep?" 
 
 "You can put him in my room and I will sleep on 
 the lounge. One of your number can stay here and 
 keep guard while the rest of you can sleep in the 
 barn, where there is plenty of loose hay and horse 
 blankets'." 
 
 "Talk enough, if the room will keep him safe, 
 old man. But a barn will be a cold place for a wet 
 lot, like us." 
 
 "It is the only place I have, for we do not 
 attempt to keep wayfarers. You can dry your- 
 selves pretty well by such a fire as this while my 
 girl is getting your supper." 
 
 The other speaker opened the door and took a 
 look at the bedroom. It was simply furnished, 
 having only a chair, table, bookcase and single 
 bedstead in the corner. There was no mode of 
 egress, except through the room where the fire- 
 place was. The room was a side one, built out 
 toward the river and being on the lower hillside 
 was on posts and eight or ten feet from the ground. 
 There was a window, of course. 
 
1 82 THE FERRY 
 
 "It's all right, boys," he said when he came 
 back. "We'll have to drive a nail in the sash and 
 that'll fix things." 
 
 Luckily it had been baking day with Helen, so 
 that she soon had a meal of baked potatoes, bread, 
 bacon and coffee in readiness for their unexpected 
 guests. Humble though it might be called, the 
 wearied crowd did it ample justice and returned to 
 the comfort of the big fire-place. 
 
 They had provided themselves with oilcloth gar- 
 ments before starting out in the storm to the pur- 
 suit. Sutherlin was given the place nearest the 
 fire, for his captors saw that he was in far worse 
 shape than themselves, and with a spasm of gen- 
 erosity gave him the warmest seat. So that the 
 night waned on till even the strongest of them felt 
 the need of rest, when Sutherlin was ordered to go 
 to bed, and did so, passing his yet moist garments 
 out to be hung over the backs of chairs. A short 
 conflab followed his departure, when it was agreed 
 which one should act as guard, and, locking the 
 door of the room securely, they left the prisoner 
 to the care of the guard and followed the old 
 ferryman to the barn, to provide for their own 
 comfort. Soon the ferryman returned, and after 
 exchanging a few words with the guard, drew off 
 his muddy boots and lay down for such repose as 
 was held in store for him. The fatigue of the 
 
THE FERRY 183 
 
 evening told on him, and soon his deep, regular 
 breathing showed him to be in deep slumber. 
 
 The clock pointed to the hour of midnight when 
 the door opened and Helen stood on the thresh- 
 old. Light as was her footstep, it aroused the 
 guard, who was nodding in the rocking chair. She 
 took a look at her sleeping father, then raked the 
 embers together and put on more fuel. The guard 
 looked on in silence until she turned to leave the 
 room, when he uttered a low "Hist," placed his 
 finger on his lips for silence, and beckoned her to 
 come toward him. Unwilling to offend him, she 
 approached slowly until she was close to him and 
 stopped. 
 
 "That your father?" he whispered. 
 
 "Yes, sir," she answered, wondering at his 
 question. 
 
 "Take a bit of advice, gal. Don't let him go 
 with us tomorrow as he talked of doing." 
 
 "Do you mean that those with you will do injury 
 to him?" 
 
 "Never mind what I mean, only keep him at 
 home. It may not be healthy for him to go. Now 
 
 go." 
 
 The girl was as pale as death itself. "Tell me 
 what you mean," she insisted. 
 
 "I've told you enough now. Take my advice; 
 that is all I can say." 
 
184 THE FERRY 
 
 "I understand your meaning, I think, but I 
 doubt if he will mind me. But I thank you all the 
 same. Is there anything I can do to make you 
 more comfortable?" 
 
 "No-o. Maybe yes, though. I'm powerful 
 tuckered out and can hardly keep awake is there 
 any liquor in the house?" 
 
 "None, only what father keeps for medicine." 
 
 "Get me a drink of it, gal, and we're even. I've 
 give you some advice. You give me the drink." 
 
 She turned and passed as if unwillingly through 
 the door. Then returning she spread a great cloak 
 over her father's sleeping form, and stood a mo- 
 ment to see if he would awake. Then she turned 
 again and passed through the door, nodding to 
 the guard as she did so. In the cupboard were 
 two demijohns, from one of these she poured a 
 potation into a teacup and busied herself a moment 
 with it before she returned to the room. He took 
 the offered libation and tasted it. 
 
 "It tastes bitter," he said. 
 
 "Father puts herbs in it. I told you he used it 
 for medicine." He drank it down. "That'll brace 
 me up, thank you. There's some one coming. 
 You'd better git." 
 
 He was right, for scarce had the door closed on 
 the retreating form of the young girl than the front 
 
THE FERRY 185 
 
 door opened and two pf the party from the barn 
 entered, and looked suspiciously around. 
 
 "What light was that we saw?" asked one. 
 
 "Light? Oh, yes; the girl was in here just now 
 and covered the old chap better. I s'pose she's 
 afraid he'll get cold." 
 
 The explanation did not seem to satisfy the 
 inquirer, for he stepped to the door of the bedroom 
 and held out his hand for the key. It was given 
 him by the guard, and he opened the door and 
 saw the form of Sutherlin on the bed in the corner, 
 so he closed and relocked the door, and grumbling 
 at having come on a fool's errand, hied back to his 
 quarters in the barn. 
 
 For a time the glass of liquor seemed to have 
 the bracing-up effect on the guard he had antici- 
 pated, but when its exhilarating effect began to 
 wear off he felt a drowsiness fall upon- him which 
 he could not successfully combat and to which he 
 finally succumbed. He had barely given the proof 
 of sleep when the door softly opened again and 
 Helen looked cautiously in. She had removed her 
 shoes and gathering Sutherlin's clothes (now 
 warm and dry) , passed in front of the guard, who 
 sat in the rocking chair, revolver in lap, and noise- 
 lessly turned the key in the lock. The firelight 
 showed the captive partly raised in bed, for, as 
 may be imagined, he had had little desire for sleep, 
 
1 86 THE FERRY 
 
 and his watchful senses were strained at the least 
 sound. She laid them across the bed, leaned over 
 and whispered: "Dress quickly and quietly; take 
 your boots in your hand and follow me." He lost 
 no time in obeying this unlooked-for command, 
 and in an incredibly short time stood beside her in 
 the room where he had eaten supper. She took 
 him by the hand and led him through the darkness, 
 until the cold air told him they were out of doors. 
 The storm had ceased and here and there a few 
 scattering bunches of stars lighted the darkness. 
 At her command he drew on his foot-gear while 
 she did the same, and then taking his hand again 
 led him down an invisible path till he knew by the 
 swish of the waves that they were at the river. 
 There was a weird light on the surface of the water 
 and he could see the ferryboat as it moved back 
 and forth in the little bay. She had already un- 
 fastened the rope which held it to the big cotton- 
 wood. 
 
 u You must carry me to the boat," she whispered. 
 "Then push it out of the shallow water and get 
 on yourself." 
 
 "My God! Miss Gaunt, what are you intending 
 to do?" 
 
 "To take you over the river." 
 
THE FERRY 187 
 
 "I will not allow you to imperil your life thus; 
 I am out of their clutches now, thanks to you and 
 can easily hide from them." 
 
 "Yes, and what will they say? That we con- 
 nived at your escape and their vengeance will fall 
 on my father. Go, if you wish; but I shall go over 
 the river and arouse the neighbors on the other 
 side, above the bend. Make your choice quickly, 
 for the chickens are giving warning of daybreak." 
 
 He had no more to say, but lifted her in his 
 arms and waded through the shallow water to the 
 boat. Placing her upon it he pushed it toward the 
 current until it had swung free and clear from the 
 land and then climbed on board. 
 
 It took them some little time to loosen and un- 
 coil the great guy rope, and convert what had been 
 the bow of the boat into its stern. Meanwhile the 
 glimmerings of approaching daylight began to 
 show themselves in the east. Then came the haul 
 upon the other guy, to turn the stern into the bow, 
 but that, too, was accomplished at last and Suther- 
 lin, under her directions, began to pull on the rope 
 to bring the boat where it would feel the strength 
 of the current. Silently as they had tried to work, 
 there was more or less noise, partly deadened by 
 the wash of the river as it rushed through the 
 rapids below, yet loud enough to be heard by one 
 of the party who had awakened before the others. 
 
1 88 THE FERRY 
 
 He ran to the road and could scarcely believe the 
 evidence of his own senses, as he saw the boat with 
 its occupants working slowly to the center of the 
 stream. With a wild yell to arouse the others, he 
 rushed into the house and, seeing the open bedroom 
 door, knew that their prey had escaped them. 
 Bestowing a kick upon the still sleeping guard, he 
 grabbed a rifle from where they had been stacked 
 in the corner and, darting out of the door, fired at 
 Sutherlin, who was still pulling at the rope. But 
 the motion of the boat, the uncertain light, and his 
 own excitement made his aim poor and the bullet 
 sped harmlessly by. 
 
 "Down behind the gunwale! Down, I say!" 
 screamed the girl. "They are all gathering with 
 guns. Now they are running down to the water's 
 edge. Down, I say!" she repeated, fairly push- 
 ing him to the bottom of the boat, where the thick 
 gunwale was a shield no bullet of that day could 
 penetrate. 
 
 But the boat had not yet reached that part of the 
 stream where the current, striking slantingly 
 against the side would force it rapidly along. A 
 few more pulls on the rope would have placed it 
 there. She advanced, steadying herself by the 
 rope rail and reached for the ferry rope. 
 
 "Stop, gal!" came a voice from the crowd on 
 the bank, which had now got down to the water's 
 
THE FERRY 189 
 
 edge. "I don't want to hurt a gal, but by the Eter- 
 nal I'll do it. Boys, look and see if you can find a 
 skiff and we'll bring that boat back yet. I'll draw a 
 bead on that gal if she makes another move." 
 
 Two of the party started up the river, where she 
 knew a small boat was moored. Her father, who 
 had been awakened with the others and had fol- 
 lowed them bare-foot to the river, turned and be- 
 gan as hastily as his years would permit, to ascend 
 the hill. 
 
 Then her fortitude gave way. "My father, my 
 father ! Have I only placed you in greater danger 
 than ever. Have you gone to get your weapons to 
 fight that gang of ruffians to save me. The cow- 
 ards ! But I will thwart them yet." 
 
 In the leather shield nailed to one of the gun- 
 wales was an ax. She sprang and seized it and 
 with one blow severed the guy rope at the shore end 
 of the boat. It swirled rapidly round and the im- 
 petus thus given carried the boat two or three 
 yards farther into the stream, where the full force 
 of the current was felt. The boat held now by the 
 one pulley surged backward and forward, while 
 the stout rope bent with the strain like the bow of 
 an archer. 
 
 Before her intention could be divined by the 
 wondering crowd on the shore, she sprang to the 
 forward part of the boat and with another blow 
 
190 THE FERRY 
 
 of her ax, struck the forward guy, which parted 
 with a sound which, to those on shore, was like the 
 thunder of a cannon. The current whirled the boat 
 away, while the watching spectators held up their 
 hands and gave a cry of horror at the sight. 
 
 "Great Heavens, Miss Gaunt! You have 
 thrown your life away to save that of a stranger 
 whom you never saw before. Would to God I had 
 not come on the boat!" 
 
 "Well, it's too late to repent now, and besides I 
 am not as unselfish as you think. I took you on 
 this boat to save my father from danger. If that 
 gang of cowards could have butchered us all, no 
 doubt they would have done it, but when you and 
 I may turn up as witnesses against them, they will 
 not dare to harm a hair of his head." 
 
 "You think then we have a chance to be saved?" 
 
 "Nay, that I cannot say, but the river will 
 hardly be so merciless as those from whom we have 
 escaped. Those rapids we have just passed could 
 not have been passed a day ago; but you see we 
 passed over as if the boat were only a feather. And 
 now but do you know what day it is today?" 
 
 "Yes, it's Sunday; I was cleaning up the boxes 
 when the trouble began." 
 
 "Yes, it's Sunday; but that's not all. You are 
 taking a boat ride with me on Christmas morning. 
 Now, tell me your name, so I will know how to 
 
THE FERRY 19! 
 
 address you. Mine's Helen; call me that. We 
 must not be too formal while our enforced com- 
 panionship lasts." 
 
 The young man looked at her with undisguised 
 admiration. "Well, Helen, since that is what I 
 am to call you, I have heard and read of heroines, 
 but you are the first with whom I have been 
 brought in contact. My name is George." 
 
 "Well, George, spare your compliments till a 
 more fitting season. We are in no peril so long as 
 the boat stays in the current. It is when it is 
 thrown on shore, if so it be, that we must look 
 out, and not get crushed or tangled in the debris. 
 I know this river." 
 
 For want of better seats they had sat on the floor 
 of the boat and were so earnest in their talk that 
 they had taken little note of their progress. He 
 raised himself up and looked at the shore. "You 
 know this river, you say. It looks to me as if we 
 were floating up stream." 
 
 She sprang up and gave a cry of delight. "So 
 we are; we have been thrown into the big eddy 
 and are saved. Take that board George, and go 
 forward and paddle the boat to shore." 
 
 He did so, and in a little while the bow was so 
 near that he could catch and pull the overhanging 
 willows. In this way they moved slowly up stream, 
 George pulling on the branches while Helen busied 
 
192 THE FERRY 
 
 herself in untwisting the strands of what was left 
 of the guy rope. Soon they floated so near land 
 that he jumped ashore with one of the strands and 
 made the boat fast to an alder tree. The waves 
 of the eddy made landing more difficult to her, 
 but it was accomplished at last and they stood on 
 the firm earth at the foot of the mountain side. 
 
 "I know this place," she said, u and we shall have 
 a hard climb to get to the path above. But let 
 us thank heaven, that on this day of days we have 
 escaped all the perils which beset us." 
 
 She knelt on the shelly rock and George knelt 
 beside her; then, following the way she pointed 
 out, they went farther up the river and commenced 
 the toilsome ascent. Clinging to a bush here, an 
 overhanging rock there, they climbed slowly until 
 the beaten path was before them. Then they 
 rested for some time on the damp trunk of a fallen 
 tree. 
 
 "Our ways part here," said Helen, rising. "You 
 take the down river trail, which leads to your des- 
 tination. I shall go up to the ferry and let father 
 see that I am safe." 
 
 "But, Helen, I cannot go and leave you alone 
 here. Is there no lady friend to whose house I 
 can take you?" 
 
 "Not this side of the ferry. Above a little way 
 the Senora Morena will give me welcome." 
 
THE FERRY 193 
 
 "Let me go at least with you to the ferry." 
 
 "You can do me no good and may do yourself 
 harm. Now go." 
 
 He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "I 
 want to thank you once more, but I have no words 
 that can tell you my thoughts. Goodbye. You 
 shall see me again and know me better than you 
 do." He turned and they went apart. But the 
 girl, now the excitement of the adventure was over, 
 felt her strength giving way. She plodded wearily 
 up the path, resting from time to time, and at last 
 reached the goal she was seeking the ferry. 
 There was no one in sight, for the would-be lynch- 
 ers had, as she prophesied, made a hasty departure, 
 while her father, saddling one of his horses, had 
 galloped down the river to trace the boat. His 
 keen eye soon saw it, moored to the opposite shore, 
 and assured of his daughter's safety, he rode slowly 
 back. As he rode in front of his door, Helen 
 stood up and waved her apron. When he saw it, 
 he threw his hat in the air, and gave a yell of de- 
 light, which his daughter heard above the roar of 
 the river. Then, motioning her destination, she 
 went her way. 
 
 Two days afterward there was an odd chance 
 meeting at the Third Crossing, three miles below. 
 Sutherlin, with two of his sturdy friends and the 
 sheriff of the county, to whom George had told 
 
194 THE FERRY 
 
 what had happened, and who thought the matter 
 should be investigated all around, came down the 
 hill from the west and signaled to the ferryman to 
 come over. While they were waiting, Helen, 
 accompanied by the Senora's eldest boy, came rid- 
 ing down from the east. When the ferry reached 
 its landing, old man Gaunt was one of the passen- 
 gers, and, rushing forward, clasped his daughter 
 in his arms. 
 
 For a few minutes the heart of each was too full 
 for utterance, while the others looked silently and 
 sympathetically on. 
 
 "It's a poor home I've got to take you to, daugh- 
 ter," said the old man. "Our ferry is gone." 
 
 "Not so, Mr. Qaunt," said Sutherlin, coming 
 forward and extending his hand, which each shook 
 heartily. "You shall have another boat there soon 
 as it can be built." 
 
 The old man smiled sadly. "It's not the loss of 
 the boat alone. My garden, my barn, even the 
 ferry site itself is a ruin. Only the house is left. 
 We shall have to begin at the bottom of the ladder 
 again, my girl." 
 
 "You'll find me ready to help you, father." 
 
 "I want something to say about this," sajid 
 George. "I've got the best claim I ever had in 
 California, and haven't a partner in it. You shall 
 be my partner if you will." 
 
THE FERRY 195 
 
 "Consider that as settled, Mr. Gaunt," said the 
 sheriff. "That's a good place to plant the foot of 
 your ladder." 
 
 "I thank you for the offer, but I am not one of 
 them who want something for nothing." 
 
 "Then buy in and pay as it comes out; we will 
 let the sheriff say what a half interest is worth." 
 
 The old man shook his head. "There has been 
 bad blood over that claim, and I don't want to buy 
 a quarrel." 
 
 It seemed impossible to move him, and the only 
 thing he would agree to was to go with the sheriff's 
 party. They took the road by the way of the 
 ferry, for Helen was to be left at home. When 
 they got there, they saw that the ruin of the ferry 
 was complete. A landslide had occurred above, 
 and when the pent-up waters were let loose they 
 had spread over the ferry garden, cutting a new 
 channel through the soft, black loam, while where 
 the still waters in which the ferry boat had moved 
 a great wall of boulders had blocked the former 
 stream. Leaving Helen the party went on to 
 where the new diggings discovered the year 
 before lay, and where the first incident of our story 
 occurred. 
 
 There was no one at work in any of the mines. 
 A horse stood at Joe Davis's door and the sheriff, 
 who had an eye for a good horse, pronounced it 
 
196 THE FERRY 
 
 to be that of Dr. Wenshaw. He was right, for 
 when the party drew near the door, Dr. Wenshaw 
 came out. 
 
 "How's Joe?" asked the sheriff. 
 
 "All right, now." 
 
 "Can he talk?" 
 
 "Talk! If you'd hear him curse himself for a 
 fool, you'd think so. Go in and see him." 
 
 The party entered the cottage where the re- 
 doubtable Joe sat in a chair, while the pseudo 
 guard sat close by, probably in attendance on the 
 invalid. 
 
 "Hallo, Joe! Rather a bad looking head on 
 you," said the sheriff, who, being a good politician, 
 knew the Christened name of all the old stand-bys. 
 
 "None worse than I deserve. Hallo, young fel- 
 low ! You here, too ! Hope you haven't come to 
 take me off, for I'm in a bad fix for traveling just 
 now. You learnt me that my cabeza is not as hard 
 as a granite boulder, when you bounced one off'n 
 it. Sarved me right, too." 
 
 "Then you admit Mr. Sutherlin here was in 
 the right?" 
 
 "In course he was. I did have a notice on that 
 claim onct, but Slocum axed me to be his pard, and 
 I let the notice run out. Then this young fellow 
 fixed it up, an' when I saw how much better it paid 
 
THE FERRY 197 
 
 than mine and Slocum's, I got hostile. I thought 
 I'd run him off, but he didn't run worth a cuss." 
 
 "And where's Slocum?" 
 
 "He lit out sudden, you bet. He said he never 
 meant to shoot at the gal; thought she'd skeer; but 
 she didn't much. He's powerful a feared you'll get 
 after him for that." 
 
 "Well, where's he gone?" 
 
 "Said he'd go to Salt Lake, but I guess he lied. 
 He was so cut up the way the gal worked the 
 crowd that he said he'd go where he could marry 
 a hull lot of wimmen an' git revenge on the hull 
 female sect." 
 
 The crowd laughed heartily at the absent Slo- 
 cum's unique idea of vengeance. Good humor 
 being in reign, a confab was entered into, with the 
 result that George's ownership was confirmed. 
 Mr. Gaunt bought in for $1,000, to be paid "as 
 it came out" and none of the would-be lynchers 
 were to be prosecuted, except the irate Slocum, if 
 he ever was found. 
 
 Willing hands turned to build an addition to 
 George's cabin, suitable for its new occupants, and 
 in a few days Mr. Gaunt and his daughter moved 
 in. The claim did not belie its promise, and when 
 the mining season was over the old man had paid 
 the price he had set for him and had a nice purse 
 full of shining metal for his own. 
 
198 THE FERRY 
 
 George's friends returned to their homes at the 
 close of the mining season, and after a good rest 
 the partners got the claim ready for the next sea- 
 son's work. The fall rains had set in ere this was 
 finished, and they were returning home in triumph. 
 Half way they met Helen coming to meet them, as 
 she had often done. Just then the old man remem- 
 bered he had left a pick behind and went back after 
 it, discreetly leaving the young folks alone. 
 
 "Helen," he said, "yesterday you made the hap- 
 piest man in the world by promising to be my wife. 
 Make me happy again today, and tell me when it 
 shall be." 
 
 u When what shall be?" she asked demurely. 
 
 "You little witch, you know what I mean. Our 
 marriage." 
 
 "George. I hadn't thought about that. But 
 you have been so considerate in everything, that 
 I'll pray your mercy for a little time to think it 
 over. But it strikes me now that it might be a 
 good way to celebrate the anniversary of our boat 
 ride, when we went over the rapids from the Ferry. 
 
Leaves 
 
 From an Argonaut's 
 Note Book 
 
 PART II 
 
 "A little nonsense now and then 
 Is relished by the wisest men." 
 
SIMPSON'S THANKSGIVING 
 
 It was the misfortune of my friend Simpson that 
 he was a bachelor. And getting to be an old 
 bachelor, at that. I say it was his misfortune, be- 
 cause I happen to know it was not his fault, for to 
 my knowledge he had made several efforts to get 
 out of that most undesirable state. But although 
 there are those who argue that there is a mate for 
 every man in the world if he only looks in the 
 right place, that every Jack has his Jill, my friend 
 Simpson seemed to be a frightful example of the 
 fact that there are exceptions to all rules, he being 
 the exception in this particular case. He was tol- 
 erably good looking, had a fair stake "salted 
 down" and was, withal, as good-natured a chap as 
 you could want to see. But all these good quali- 
 ties proved no recommendation to the hearts of tha 
 fair damsels of the flourishing mining camp of 
 Rabbit Hill, and at last Jack Simpson gave up in 
 despair and seemed to be reconciled to settle down 
 to a quiet life of single blessedness. 
 
 My opinion of the matter was that Jack was 
 rather too fastidious. Of course, when a man is 
 looking for a life partner, he is a Muggins if he 
 
2O2 SIMPSON'S THANKSGIVING 
 
 bites at the first bait which is thrown him, and 
 then, again, there are some points in the u eternal 
 fitness of things" which ought not to be over- 
 looked. So, when Jack made his last "break" after 
 Old Snipkin's daughter, Betty, who, though taller 
 than her mother, was only fifteen years old, I proph- 
 esied it would not be long before he would come 
 to grief in that quarter also. And my head was 
 level. When he mentioned the matter to Betty, 
 she laughed as only a Pike County girl can laugh, 
 and told him he had better wait until her mother 
 became a widder and then try for her. This heart- 
 less allusion to the forty years of Mr. Simpson had 
 a wonderful effect on him. He went to his cabin, 
 on Whisky Ravine, discarded linen shirts and black 
 cloth breeches, and for a year or two seemed to be 
 perfectly oblivious of the fact that Nature had di- 
 vided mankind into two sexes, and that there was 
 such a thing as woman in existence. 
 
 But as the years rolled on, the memory of this 
 last u snub" died away sufficiently so that Jack once 
 more made his appearance in society. The fact 
 was that Jack was really in love this time, and true 
 love, like true merit, is always modest and hesitat- 
 ing. Once or more when in the presence of the 
 charming little widow whose image held posses- 
 sion of his heart, he had been on the point of pour- 
 ing forth the pent-up feelings of his bosom, but the 
 
SIMPSON'S THANKSGIVING 203 
 
 thoughts of the cruel rebuffs of former years 
 checked the words upon his lips and the tale of his 
 love remained untold. So it might have been for 
 years had it not been for certain incidents which I 
 now propose to relate in this most veracious his- 
 tory. I cannot say that the concealment of his 
 feelings seemed to "prey on the damask cheek" of 
 my friend, in fact, his cheek and also his nose as- 
 sumed rather more of a damask tinge than had 
 been their wont before he commenced to cherish 
 his hidden love. Jim Smith said it was whisky that 
 Jack was using for "nose paint," but Jim Smith was 
 not reliable. 
 
 The charming little widow lived in a charming 
 little cottage, near the junction of Whisky Ravine 
 and Nugget Gulch, half a mile away from the 
 lonely cabin of my friend Simpson. Often, when 
 that gentleman passed the charming cottage on his 
 way to the Hill, did the thought arise, how happy 
 he could be if he were only the possessor of that 
 cottage and its inmates, also. For the lamented 
 Mr. Blyther left three images of himself to the 
 care of his bereaved spouse and, in fact, it was 
 through the instrumentality of one of these olive 
 branches that the acquaintance of Mr. Simpson 
 and the charming widow was brought about. 
 
 "What do they always have Thanksgiving Day 
 in November for?" was the mental inquiry which 
 
204 SIMPSON S THANKSGIVING 
 
 Mr. Simpson propounded to himself, as he stood in 
 the door and watched the falling raindrops. The 
 truth was, it had been a continuous storm for sev- 
 eral days and Mr. Simpson's larder sadly needed 
 replenishing. It had been his intention to replenish 
 and at the same time take his dinner at the Rabbit 
 Hill Hotel, but the storm discouraged him and 
 after taking a last look at the clouded sky he re- 
 luctantly abandoned that idea and put on a fresh 
 pot of beans. Having thus initiated culinary pro- 
 ceedings for the festival, Mr. Simpson took down 
 the can in which he kept his yeast and stirring in 
 some more flour, set it above the fireplace. This 
 done, there was nothing more to do until the yeast 
 got into working order, and Mr. Simpson, taking 
 the last week's paper from the shelf, prepared to 
 put in the interim to the best possible advantage. 
 
 The boiling and sputtering of the beanpot 
 joined to a clear conscience, produced a soothing 
 effect on the mind of Mr. Simpson and he was soon 
 in the land of dreams. And probably there was 
 no way in which he could have passed the time 
 more happily. For, when a man is sound asleep 
 he is out of misery. He does not care whether the 
 diggings pay an ounce a day, or only grub, and it 
 does not matter to him whether we are going to 
 have a wet winter, or are threatened with a dry 
 one ; in truth, he is, for the time being, as free from 
 
SIMPSON S THANKSGIVING 205 
 
 all sublunary ills as if he were the inhabitant of an- 
 other planet. But with the awakening came a re- 
 newed sense of the sorrows of life, as Mr. Simpson 
 found. As he opened his eyes he saw that there 
 was a lull in the storm and the widow's boy had 
 taken advantage of it to come in search of the 
 family cow. 
 
 "Come in, Jeff," said Mr. Simpson, throwing 
 open the door and poking the embers together un- 
 der the bean-kettle. "Come in and see me. It is 
 all-fired lonesome sitting here alone on a rainy day. 
 What's the news, now?" he continued, as Jeff 
 sidled up to the fireplace where he stood, scratch- 
 ing his head. 
 
 "There hain't nothin'," said Jeff, grinning. 
 
 "No news; why, what a boy you are, now. 
 "Why, when I was a boy, I could always find 
 plenty to tell and talk about," and Mr. Simpson, 
 taking his bread pan poured it half full of flour. 
 
 "What be you goin' to do?" queried Jeff. 
 
 "Make some bread, my boy. Must have warm 
 bread, you know, for a Thanksgiving dinner. 
 Maybe you'll be an old bach some of these days 
 and have to make bread." And Mr. Simpson took 
 down the yeast can from over the fireplace and 
 looked into it. Instantly a change came over his 
 placid countenance and he gave vent to a number of 
 
206 SIMPSON'S THANKSGIVING 
 
 exclamations more remarkable for force than ele- 
 gance. 
 
 I don't know that I blame Mr. Simpson for that 
 little ebullition of temper. I felt the same Way my- 
 self, when I found a drowned mouse in my sour 
 dough. And I did just what Simpson did; took 
 the can out of doors and kicked it out of sight. 
 
 "I'll have to go it on beans and cold bread, 
 Jeff," said Mr. Simpson, when he recovered his 
 equanimity. "Never mind; so long as a fellow has 
 plenty of beans he is all right. I wonder how near 
 they are done?" 
 
 It was an easy matter to find out as every old 
 miner knows. Mr. Simpson took a long handled 
 spoon and fishing up a few of the beans, blew vig- 
 orously on them. As the skins began to peel off 
 and roll back a smile of triumphant gratification 
 spread over his face and he got a fork to try the 
 bacon. 
 
 Alas, it was the feather which broke the camel's 
 back. For while Simpson was snoozing, the cross 
 stick from which the pot of beans depended was 
 quietly burning away. When Simpson reached in 
 his hand to test the bacon, its weight on the fork 
 was too much for the frail support and in another 
 moment the bean pot stood bottom side up among 
 the embers. 
 
SIMPSON S THANKSGIVING 207 
 
 To yank it out with the aid of the fire stick was 
 but the work of a moment, and in another it was 
 rolling down the hill after the yeast can. Mr. Simp- 
 son apostrophised the departing vessel as it 
 bumped against the rocks and it made him cheerful 
 again. 
 
 "I've got to go to town for dinner, Jeff," said 
 he, soon as he got the ashes out of his eyes. "I go 
 right past your place and we'll go together." 
 
 But Jeff was gone. Though he had no news to 
 tell Mr. Simpson he had plenty to tell his mother 
 and was not going to lose any time telling it. So 
 when Simpson got to the door and looked, the re- 
 treating form of Jeff was just disappearing around 
 the bend, and the pleasant tinkle of the cow-bell 
 told that boy and cow were making good time. 
 
 Mr. Simpson divested himself of his soiled ap- 
 parel, donned his store clothes, and was soon on his 
 way to fulfill his original intention of eating his 
 Thanksgiving dinner at the Rabbit Hill Hotel. As 
 it was even now past the hour when hotel guests 
 dine he strode onward at a fearful pace. And, as 
 he knew that the story of his misfortunes had ere 
 this reached the ears of the charming widow, he 
 jammed his hat fiercely down over his eyes and 
 would not even look in the direction of the cottage. 
 But he was not fated to escape. 
 
208 SIMPSON'S THANKSGIVING 
 
 "Mithter Thimpthon," piped a little shrill voice. 
 It was that of the widow's little daughter, who was 
 "lying in wait" for him. "Pleath, thir, mother 
 thed you had lotht your dinner and would you 
 come and have dinner with her?" 
 
 My friend Simpson hesitated. If there is any- 
 thing in the world a man hates, it is to appear 
 ridiculous in the eyes of his soul's affection. That 
 is, until he has got her secure. For it occurs to me 
 that some men try to make themselves as ridicu- 
 lous as possible in the eyes of their wives and gen- 
 erally make out to. But I, not being a benedict, 
 may be prejudiced against the shortcomings of 
 those of my sex who are better off than I. How- 
 ever, Simpson knew that he must face the widow 
 on some occasion, or leave the county, so he de- 
 termined to brave fate and marched right in. 
 
 But the gentle widow did not seem disposed to 
 twit Jack with the slightest allusion to the misfor- 
 tunes he had met. Maybe that, having had one ex- 
 perience with the animal, Man, she knew that a 
 hungry one was not of the kind to stand joking. 
 Be that as it may, the preparations for the devo- 
 tional meal were hurried forward and the family 
 and the guest were soon seated around the hospit- 
 able board. 
 
 It was not until the inner man (and woman) 
 was satisfied that reserve was broken, and conver- 
 
SIMPSON S THANKSGIVING 209 
 
 sation took a free range. Then she told Mr. 
 Simpson of sundry passages in the bachelor life of 
 the late lamented Blythers, which he had told her 
 of after marriage and which the occurrences of the 
 day had recalled to her recollection. The narration 
 of these little incidents had a tendency to put Mr. 
 Simpson at his ease, and the thought came into his 
 mind that if the lamented Blythers had been recom- 
 pensed for such sufferings by the love of the angelic 
 creature who sat before him, why should not he, 
 too, in the ever-changing chapter 'of events be 
 recompensed in a similar manner. 
 
 "And so you lost your yeast," screamed the 
 widow. "An* just the same way that Blythers lost 
 his first batch of apple sass; only 'twas a wood rat 
 got drowned in it. But he learned to keep things 
 kivered after that." 
 
 "So do I, generally, Mrs. Blythers. But a fel- 
 low don't always think of such things. Now a 
 woman, you see, always remem " 
 
 "Ma said it serves you just right," interrupted 
 Jeff, "she said if a man ," but here Jeff's rev- 
 elations ended, for a vigorous slap of the widow's 
 fair hand across the mouth checked the flow of 
 Jeff's words and sent him howling to the wood- 
 shed. 
 
 "Well, you did, ma," said the next, undeterred 
 by Jeff's fate, "you said if a man was fool enough 
 
2io SIMPSON'S THANKSGIVING 
 
 to keep bach when he ought to be mar mar oh, 
 ma; o-u-c-h, oh-h." 
 
 Mrs. Blythers, however, kept up a vigorous as- 
 sault till both the remaining olive branches were 
 in the woodshed with Jeff, while my friend Simp- 
 son, with a palpitating heart, sat blessing the "lit- 
 tle pitchers" whose "big ears" had enabled them to 
 make such precious revelations. When the fair 
 widow returned and he caught sight of the blush- 
 ing face he thought he had never seen her look so 
 beautiful. "And on this hint he spake." Taking 
 within both his own the fair hand which had 
 slapped Jeff's mouth, he said, in soft, low tones : 
 
 "Anastasia, dearest, if I may call you so, can I 
 believe my ears? Do you commiserate my lonely 
 condition ? And will you, oh, will you make it less 
 so, by becoming my own sweet wife?" 
 
 "Drat them young ones," answered the widow, 
 "I s'pose I'll have to say yes." 
 
 Mr. Simpson and his amiable lady still live in 
 the charming little cottage near the junction of 
 Nugget Gulch and Whisky Ravine. He took an 
 early opportunity of telling me the successful issue 
 of his courtship, and wound up by saying that the 
 loss of his pot of beans on that Thanksgiving Day 
 had taught him to exclaim with the poet: "Sweet 
 are the uses of adversity." 
 
STUBBS' WOOING 
 
 Samantha Jane was sweeping. As this was a 
 portion of the daily routine of duties devolving 
 upon that lady, it may seem that the information 
 is uncalled for on our part. Every woman is 
 presumed to sweep the house at least once a day, 
 and why we should allude to it at all may seem 
 superfluous. 
 
 But Samantha Jane was sweeping. Sweeping 
 the porch. To the ordinary observer this would 
 indicate that, having disposed of the other house- 
 hold cares, she was about ready to sit down and 
 read, or sew, or devote herself to some other of 
 the lighter occupations of femininity. But such a 
 conclusion, although it might be one which would 
 seem warranted by the facts would be far from 
 correct. A peep into the interior of old man Stig- 
 ger's presumably happy home, would show the 
 breakfast dishes unwashed, the beds unmade, and 
 even the sweeping itself confined to the exterior of 
 the building. 
 
 Let us then enlighten the world as to the cause 
 of this departure of Samantha Jane from all the 
 ordinary rules of housekeeping. There was a man 
 
212 STUBBS' WOOING 
 
 in the case, of course. And while Samantha Jane 
 was sweeping, his approaching form began to ap- 
 pear through the fog. For this was New Year's 
 morning, and I have invariably observed that 
 New Year's morning is foggy in a dry winter. The 
 coming man was none other than my friend and 
 partner, Mr. Peter Geiger, called, for shortness, I 
 suppose, "Old Stubbs." Not that he was either 
 old or stubby, but he was called that, as we always 
 thought, on the principle that the boys called an- 
 other fellow "deacon" because he played seven-up 
 in the church once while waiting the arrival of the 
 preacher. 
 
 Samantha Jane continued to sweep the porch, 
 and the nearer Mr. Geiger approached the more 
 vigorously she plied the broom. If this proceed- 
 ing upon her part was intended to awaken the ad- 
 miration of Stubbs, I very much doubt its expedi- 
 ency. The broom, for some purposes and the 
 broomstick for others, are proverbially woman's 
 weapon, and a thoughtful man seeing the nimble 
 dexterity with which she handled the one, might 
 well pause and consider if she could not, if occas- 
 ion called for it be equally dexterous with the 
 other. But Mr. Stubbs was not a thoughtful man. 
 He reasoned (when he reasoned at all) , from anal- 
 ogy alone. Therefore it is but justice to my old 
 partner to say that when his eyes rested upon the 
 
STUBBS WOOING 213 
 
 lithe, active form of the maiden, his thoughts dwelt 
 only in the present. 
 
 Samantha Jane continued to sweep, apparently 
 oblivious of the existence of anything in this wide 
 world except the dust she was driving before her. 
 But while her form moved in sympathy with the 
 motion of the broomstick, a close observer could 
 have noted that her eyes were cast furtively upon 
 the masculine specimen which drew nearer and 
 nearer. As for my friend Geiger, or Stubbs, if you 
 choose to call him, although he had not expected 
 this happy meeting, he was not unprepared for it. 
 So when he reached that point in the path nearest 
 to the domicile of the venerable Stigger, he 
 paused and saluted. 
 
 "'MorninV 
 
 Samantha Jane quit sweeping with a start and a 
 little feminine yell. What deceivers women are. 
 She knew this was Stubbs' ordinary mode of giv- 
 ing the morning salutation. But it did not suit her 
 purpose to seem to be expecting anything, hence 
 the start and the yell alluded to above. 
 
 "Lawk, Mr. Geiger, how you frightened me!" 
 
 "It's enough to skeer any good looking creeture, 
 I expect," assented Geiger. "But now youVe got 
 over it, how are you?" 
 
 "Nicely, Mr. Geiger, won't you drop in and see 
 the folks?" 
 
214 STUBBS WOOING 
 
 "I see 'em all I care about seein' just now," gal- 
 lantly replied Stubbs. "Fact is, I'm in suthin' of a 
 hurry. The boys are layin' off today, bein' its 
 New Year, and I was just goin' to the burg to get 
 some little traps to help 'em out." 
 
 "I s'pose you'll be at the party, tonight?" ques- 
 tioned Samantha Jane. 
 
 "What, is there to be a party? This is the first 
 I've hearn of it." 
 
 "Why, do tell now! And you hadn't heard. 
 Why it's this way, you see. Mrs. Willet's cousin, 
 what came here last week, said it was a shame that 
 a New Year's should pass and no doin's. And so 
 they're goin' to have a time at the hall." 
 
 "Glad to hear it," said Mr. Stubbs. "You'll 
 be thar, of course?" 
 
 "Wall, I don't know. Mebbe so." 
 
 What could Mr. Geiger do ? What would you 
 do my young masculine friend, if a buxom, bloom- 
 ing Missouri girl made a similar revelation to you ? 
 Mr. Geiger took in the situation at a glance. He 
 saw that he was in for it, and if I must tell the 
 truth, I think he was glad of it. So he did the only 
 thing possible for a young man in his situation to 
 do gracefully, and asked permission to escort Sa- 
 mantha Jane to the party, then and there. And 
 right then and there Samantha Jane accepted the 
 invitation. 
 
STUBBS' WOOING 215 
 
 Having accomplished this little piece of business 
 to their mutual satisfaction, Mr. Peter Geiger con- 
 tinued on his journey toward the "burg," while 
 Samantha Jane resumed sweeping. It struck me as 
 a little odd that although more than half of the 
 porch was yet unswept at the time of Peter's de- 
 parture, the young lady finished it up in about one- 
 tenth part of the time it had taken her to do the 
 other, and hurried shivering into the house. From 
 which I infer that the whole movement was a piece 
 of strategy upon the part of the guileless maiden. 
 
 The "hall" of which Samantha Jane had made 
 mention in the interesting dialogue we have so 
 truthfully reported, had originally been a whisky 
 saloon, but the proprietor thereof, after trouble 
 with some of his customers in regard to the pay- 
 ment for certain drinks (which ended in his being 
 knocked down with one of his own bottles), be- 
 came a staunch temperance man, and instead of 
 selling out the business, left the flourishing burg of 
 Breakneck Point in disgust. It had thereupon been 
 taken possession of and was used for public pur- 
 poses generally, from a traveling minstrel show up. 
 Here, when the blushing and blooming Samantha 
 Jane arrived under the escort of my stalwart friend 
 Stubbs, there were gathered all the young ladies 
 and little girls from miles around, and we may as 
 well tell it all, the old women also. Now we are 
 
2l6 STUBBS* WOOING 
 
 not going to write a homily on old women dancing, 
 in forget fulness of the maxims of church discipline, 
 impressed upon their minds in another country. 
 We believe it a sort of duty which all hands owe to 
 society, to turn out on such occasions as this, and 
 contribute their mite to the general comfort and 
 happiness of the community. Verbum sap. 
 
 Therefore, we must not be surprised to learn 
 that old man Stigger and his estimable lady soon 
 followed Stubbs and Samantha Jane, having very 
 discreetly dropped behind after starting, which ac- 
 tion on their part we submit is worthy of all praise. 
 We know of more than one lady of a certain age, 
 past the barriers of girlhood, who might have been 
 happily married years ago, if the old folks had only 
 sense enough to keep out of the way. Our experi- 
 ence is that it is all well enough to have the good- 
 will of the old folks to start in with, but when it 
 comes to substantial sparking, third parties are to 
 be kept away. 
 
 The orchestra consisted of two fiddles and a 
 banjo, and three babies. "Fancy" dances were 
 few and far between, for as yet the teachers of "the 
 poetry of motion" had not reached that point, and 
 as a natural consequence the only dances which the 
 guests dare essay, were the old-fashioned ones they 
 had learned in "the States." And good dances 
 they were, too, if we do say it. We wish they 
 
STUBBS' WOOING 2 17 
 
 would revive them now, in place of some we 
 wot of. My friend Stubbs was in his element. 
 Holding the fair hand of Samantha Jane within 
 his own, together they threaded the mazes of the 
 Money Musk, or met and parted in the indescrib- 
 able chain of the Haymaker. At the conclusion of 
 the latter the fate of Mr. Geiger was sealed. A 
 girl who could handle both hands and feet so ca- 
 pably as Samantha Jane had shown her ability to 
 do, was the girl to share his heart and cabin on 
 Scorpion Bar. And with that energy which char- 
 acterized all his actions he determined to seal the 
 bargain that very night. 
 
 The dance came to an end after a while, as 
 everything in this world, and the world itself must, 
 if we are to believe what is told us. And as every- 
 thing dies, and passes away it is only reasonable to 
 conclude that the world must share the universal 
 fate of all animated nature, when it has filled its 
 appointed purpose, so we will not attack the phil- 
 osophy of sages and revelation on that point. But 
 let it not be understood that the dance at Break- 
 neck Point ceased at what would be termed fash- 
 ionable hours. It was not until after "sun-up" that 
 the last dulcet strains of the fiddles were heard and 
 the revelers took their ways homeward. In those! 
 golden days people who went to a dance went there 
 to dance, and dance they did. And it is a pleasant 
 
2l8 STUBBS' WOOING 
 
 fact for me to chronicle that old Stigger, with that 
 wise discretion we have heretofore had occasion to 
 commend, departed with his better half and the 
 olive branches a full half hour before Samantha 
 Jane and her admiring partner could tear them- 
 selves from the festive scene. 
 
 It was before the days of wagon roads and the 
 narrow trail along the hill side left them but little 
 opportunity to walk side by side. This was annoy- 
 ing, as all our readers who have been married or in 
 love will readily admit, but as we before remarked 
 it is only within our province to deal with facts. 
 Stubbs felt that the wished-for opportunity would 
 soon be gone, and though he had felt full of cour- 
 age when he formed the resolution of knowing his 
 fate, as the decisive moments were passing he felt 
 his courage vanish, notwithstanding he had taken 
 a couple of good snifters of whisky to loosen his 
 tongue. It was not until they were descending to 
 Sucker Flat and the domicile of old Stigger, with 
 the smoke curling upward in gay festoons through 
 the crisp January air, appeared in sight, impres- 
 sing the mind with a sense of the domestic happi- 
 ness which was to be found therein, that he found 
 courage to declare his love. And perhaps he would 
 not then had it not been for Samantha Jane. 
 
STUBBS' WOOING 
 
 "You'll stop till arter breakfast, Mr. Geiger, 
 will you not? A cup of coffee will do you good. 
 I'll make one in no time." 
 
 Then his pent-up feelings found vent, Fanny 
 Fern, or some other woman cynic has put it on 
 paper that the way to a man's heart is through his 
 stomach. Thus it was with my valued partner. 
 
 "Stop," he repeated, "of course I'll stop. But, 
 oh, Samantha, dearest, let it not be the only cup of 
 coffee you make for me. Make coffee for me so 
 long as we both do live." 
 
 "Lawk, Mr. Geiger, how you surprise me. This 
 is so unexpected " 
 
 "Never mind, I mean it as much as if we'd bin 
 courtin' a coon's age. Here I stop, and I won't go 
 a step farther till you promise to be my own." 
 
 "Come along then, Peter. You'd freeze to 
 death if you stayed here long this morning, and I 
 don't want your death on my conscience." 
 
 The loving pair linked arms and moved toward 
 the house till a big manzanita bush hid them from 
 view. Here they stopped and Stubbs ratified the 
 contract upon her ruby lips. He must have been 
 very much in earnest, for old Stigger, who was 
 picking up chips to replenish the fire, went in and 
 told his wife that the weather must be moderating 
 as he could hear the ice down in the bend cracking 
 and breaking up. 
 
22O STUBBS' WOOING 
 
 Having then detailed the wooing of the gallant 
 Stubbs my mission as a chronicler would seem to be 
 ended. But that reverence for truth which has 
 guided my pen thus far impels me to add yet a few 
 words. Mr. and Mrs. Geiger after marriage es- 
 tablished their home near the claim, and the uni- 
 form friendship which had existed between us dur- 
 ing Peter's years of bachelor life, when we cabined 
 together and took "week about" with the cooking, 
 was not weakened by the new relation he had as- 
 sumed. But when I look upon the half dozen or 
 more of tow-headed young ones that Pete has to 
 feed, clothe and keep shod on three dollars a day 
 with work only for part of the season, I rather feel 
 glad that it was he and not I that found Samantha 
 Jane sweeping on that memorable New Year's 
 morning. 
 
THE END OF LEAP YEAR 
 
 Mr. Swipes hastened through the rain until he 
 reached his cabin on Gouge-Eye Point. Naturally, 
 one would not think an old, shell-back miner like 
 Swipes, who had stood the storms of a quarter of a 
 century, would care for a little rain, that being, as 
 the old women used to say, neither sugar nor salt, 
 he could stand the storm of any winter, and wel- 
 come it as a guarantee of that desideratum of every 
 mining community a wet winter, and plenty of 
 water. It may be, however, that it was because he 
 had stood the storms of so many winters in the past, 
 that the amiable Mr. Swipes felt himself admon- 
 ished to keep a keen lookout for his own health 
 in the future. At any rate, having gone into the 
 diggings in the morning under a cloudless sky, he, 
 having omitted the precaution of taking with 
 him a gum coat, was caught by the storm at a 
 great disadvantage. And, like the prudent man 
 he was, he "streaked it" for home. 
 
 Of course he reached there without any mishap, 
 for it was not the first time he had darted home 
 "between drops." A glance at the sky told him 
 that the storm was probably good for the rest of the 
 
222 THE END OF LEAP YEAR 
 
 day, and as matters were not pressing in the claim, 
 he prepared to make himself comfortable. From 
 his store of pitchwood a few splinters were selected, 
 the dry pine kindling put over them, and drawing 
 a match from the bunch he struck it to kindle a 
 fire. But, as he bent down in pursuit of this laud- 
 able purpose, the water which had collected on his 
 hat-brim poured off in a little stream and extin- 
 guished it. It was a little thing, but life is some- 
 times made up of trifles. Mr. Swipes swore 
 actually swore over this little mishap. Having 
 thus relieved his feelings, he essayed to strike an- 
 other match, but found to his discomfiture that the 
 bunch had collected dampness and the heads 
 scraped off in a manner peculiarly aggravating to a 
 chilly man. At each successive failure, Mr. Swipes 
 swore again, but it did no good, and the prospect of 
 a cheerful fire to dispel the dampness of his cabin 
 seemed very slim indeed. 
 
 u This comes of baching it," growled Mr. 
 Swipes. "If I had a woman to keep house for me 
 I wouldn't be shivering this way, now. Doggone it, 
 why ain't I married?" 
 
 Mr. Swipes scratched his head as he propounded 
 this conundrum to himself, but failed to elicit any 
 response. Then he began exploring his pockets in 
 the hope of finding a stub, but was equally unsuc- 
 cessful. It was rather a discouraging thought that 
 
THE END OF LEAP YEAR 223 
 
 he would have to go a half mile to the nearest 
 neighbors to get matches to kindle his fire, but there 
 was no getting over it and grabbing the hat which 
 had caused the mishap, he was about to open the 
 door when there was a light tap on it. Now, it was 
 not usual for any of Mr. Swipes' visitors to an- 
 nounce their presence in this manner. Generally, 
 the door opened and they came bulging in, or if 
 they knocked at all, it was in a manner which gave 
 unmistakable evidence of somebody's presence. 
 This light tap discomposed Swipes more than a 
 salvo of artillery would have done, and he hesitated 
 before opening the door. And well he might. 
 
 For there, upon the threshold stood three speci- 
 men's of "God's last, best gift to man." That they 
 were not able to stand the storm like young ducks 
 was evidenced by their forlorn appearance, and the 
 haste with which they bolted into the cabin at Mr. 
 Swipes' invitation was ample proof. 
 
 "How glad we were to see you come home, Mr. 
 Swipes. We were under the big pine, but you see 
 we couldn't keep dry. Why in the world don't 
 you start your fire, now you've got everything all 
 ready ? Don't you see we are almost froze ?" 
 
 He did see it. But that did not help matters a 
 bit and he was forced to the humiliating confession 
 that there was not a match in the house. 
 
224 THE END OF LEAP YEAR 
 
 "Then Jane shall give you one. She had some 
 awhile ago. Don't pretend to deny it, now, you 
 do smoke and you know it." 
 
 Whether Jane, whom Mr. Swipes had not before 
 seen, she being a recent arrival in the place, in- 
 tended to deny the fact, or not, we are not pre- 
 pared to say, but after several preliminary motions, 
 she began to search the pocket of her dress. From 
 thence she drew forth a ball of blue yarn, a knife, 
 a bunch of keys, several newspaper clippings of 
 poetry, which she read carefully, then a few 
 matches, wrapped in a bit of paper. Swipes took 
 one of these and in a few minutes the cheerful 
 blaze was rolling up the chimney, and the moist 
 quartette gathering around it forgot the storm 
 which was raging without. 
 
 "How came you women folks to be caught out 
 in this way?" asked Mr. Swipes, when he had got 
 sufficiently warmed up for conversation. 
 
 "Well, you see Jane here, my aunt, Mr. 
 Swipes," (Swipes bowed profoundly) "had 
 never seen a hydraulic playing, and the morning 
 looked so fine that we thought we would just walk 
 up to the bar above. We didn't dream of a storm 
 and never thought of taking umbrellas." 
 
 Mr. Swipes was entirely satisfied with that ex- 
 planation. In fact, that gentleman was lapsing into 
 
THE END OF LEAP YEAR 225 
 
 a state of mind in which he would be satisfied with 
 anything. 
 
 Albeit rain is a most necessary adjunct to the 
 prosperity of this glorious golden State, let the 
 storms come when they may, there are some who 
 will wish they had held off a little while longer. 
 Not so with Mr. Swipes, who was delighted with 
 his accession of company which the unlooked-for 
 deluge had brought to his lonely cabin, but so it 
 was with his visitors. For when, under the genial 
 warmth of the fire they had got warm and dry 
 again, came the wish that the rain would quit and 
 let them go home. And numerous were the trips 
 which were made from the fireplace to the window 
 to note the appearance of the sky, or to see if 
 some one was not on the road with umbrellas, to 
 hunt them up and bring them home. But the hu- 
 miliating truth must be told that old Bender, the 
 only one who knew where they had gone, was so 
 deeply interested in a little game of draw poker, 
 that he quite forgot, not only that Mrs. Bender 
 had gone up to the bar that morning, but was quite 
 oblivious of the fact that he had a wife at all. But 
 old Bender's weakness for draw poker and such 
 kindred amusements was one which was shared by 
 other benedicts of the burg, so he was not at all 
 singular in his habits. 
 
226 THE END OF LEAP YEAR 
 
 The hands of the clock began to indicate the near 
 approach of that time of day when custom and 
 nature require humanity to partake of the noontide 
 meal, and Mr. Swipes, whose appetite was sharp- 
 ened by an early and light breakfast, was at his 
 wit's end to know on what to feed his unexpected 
 guests. Now, if he had been given due notice of 
 their coming, he could have prepared a meal fit for 
 a king, but we have to concede that he was taken at 
 a great disadvantage. An inspection of his larder 
 showed the heel of a loaf, a small remnant of the 
 boiled beef of the day before, and the remains of a 
 pot of beans, ample, indeed, for the frugal meal 
 which would have appeased Mr. Swipes, but only a 
 taste for four. Added to this was the discouraging 
 fact that he had but two plates and paraphernalia 
 to match, one for himself and one for those State 
 occasions when "Slim Jim," or some other of his 
 husky cronies dropped in to have a square meal with 
 him. And as these plates, etc., had not been in 
 the dishpan since Slim Jim's visit the day before, 
 (Mr. Swipes having washed his own plate suffi- 
 ciently by the simple but ingenious process of turn- 
 ing itbottom side up), the difficulties of the situation 
 will be seen at once. 
 
 But Swipes arose with the occasion. The dish- 
 water was heated, poured into a pan and, armed 
 with half a flour sack fastened with a nail to the 
 
"I wish I had such a housekeeper for every day," said Mr. 
 Swipes, gallantly. (See page 227.) 
 
THE END OF LEAP YEAR 2 27 
 
 end of a stick, Swipes had those dishes washed in 
 no time, before his guests knew what he was doing. 
 But when, this task completed, he rubbed the inside 
 of his dutch oven with a bacon rind and, pouring 
 some flour into a pan reached for the box of yeast 
 powder, their woman nature would permit them to 
 remain silent no longer. So Mrs. Bender asked 
 him what he was going to do. 
 
 "Why, get you folk some dinner, of course." 
 
 "Not much, you ain't, Swipsey." (This was 
 Mrs. Bender's familiar way.) "It's a shame you 
 haven't got a wife to do all these things for you, 
 but as you haven't we'll be your housekeepers for 
 today." And before Swipes fairly knew it, she had 
 the pan from him and with sleeves tucked up (a 
 form of procedure Mr. Swipes had never thought 
 of) , was stirring up the flour. 
 
 "I wish I had such a housekeeper for every day," 
 said Mr. Swipes, gallantly. 
 
 "It's your fault that you haven't," retorted that 
 lady. "Why don't you get married, as every man 
 ought to, instead of moping thro' life like a great 
 dunce as you are?" 
 
 It is a coincidence which will be remarked, that 
 this was the identical question Swipes had pro- 
 pounded to himself just before the ladies made 
 their appearance. But there was this difference: 
 That Swipes, talking to Swipes, could leave 
 
228 THE END OF LEAP YEAR 
 
 Swipes' question unanswered, but when it was 
 asked by a female, there must be a reply forth- 
 coming. So he answered very promptly: "Be- 
 cause no one would have me, Mrs. Bender." 
 
 Mrs. Bender only responded, "Git," and went on 
 with the kneading. 
 
 "Git?" retorted Swipes, indignantly. "Now it's 
 so. D'ye s'pose I'd stay single long, if I thought a 
 right good woman would say the right word ? I've 
 kinder waited through Leap Year, to see if some 
 one of 'em wouldn't shin up to me, but it's near 
 gone now, and nary one has 'cheeped.' ' 
 
 "Jane," said Mrs. Bender, solemnly; "did you 
 hear that?" 
 
 "Hear what?" asked Jane, who, by the way had 
 not lost a word which had been said. 
 
 "Why, this man says he's waited until Leap 
 Year's nigh gone in the hope some one would ask 
 him to marry. You ask him and see what he will 
 say to it." 
 
 Jane simpered, the younger specimen of femi- 
 ninity giggled outright, and Swipes blushed to be- 
 hind the ears. This put a damper on the conver- 
 sation, for Mr. Swipes' thoughts being turned 
 matrimonially again, he felt disposed to brood over 
 his sorrows, while the women folk, having taken the 
 matter in hand, were getting up such a dinner as 
 
THE END OF LEAP YEAR 229 
 
 the little cabin on Gouge-Eye Point had never seen 
 before. 
 
 The grateful scent of the viands reached the ol- 
 factory nerves of Swipes, and he took a mental in- 
 ventory of the charms of Aunt Jane, who was 
 warming up the remnants of the beef and beans 
 in a most appetizing manner. Swipes was entirely 
 satisfied; what if she did smoke, it was only an 
 additional reason why she should be his own. 
 "Here we could sit," said that worthy to himself, 
 "she there and me here and I'd never be out of 
 tobacker, for I could borry from her when mine 
 was gone. Wish she would ask me; doggoned if 
 I don't." And Mr. Swipes at once erected an air 
 castle to take the place of his two-roomed cabin, 
 installed Jane as the mistress of it, and was only 
 called from the contemplation of his vision of bliss 
 by the matter-of-fact announcement that dinner was 
 ready. 
 
 As we have before stated that the Swipes dres- 
 ser contained but two plates, the question of prece- 
 dence became quite a serious one. It was finally 
 settled that Swipes and Aunt Jane should wait, 
 that amiable lady having imparted the information 
 to them that "the smell of the wittles when cook- 
 ing allus took away her appetite," and Swipes hav- 
 ing, of course, too much of the gentleman about 
 him to sit at the first table and let ladies wait. This 
 
230 THE END OF LEAP YEAR 
 
 question being settled to the great satisfaction of all 
 concerned, dinner was eaten in the order we have 
 intimated, and Swipes and Aunt Jane had nearly 
 finished theirs, when the door opened without the 
 formality of a knock and old Bender walked in. 
 
 To explain the sudden appearance of this esti- 
 mable gentleman, we will state that he had been 
 having excellent luck at the game and had gathered 
 in nearly all the ready cash of the other fellows. 
 Then, finding there was a disposition on their part 
 to continue the game and "owe" him the amount of 
 their losses, he suddenly remembered that his wife 
 had gone away in the morning and had not re- 
 turned. This thought produced such an effect upon 
 his sensitive mind that he immediately pocketed 
 his winnings and "jumped" the game, much to the 
 disgust of the "busted" ones, who thus saw their 
 chances to "get even" vanish with his departing 
 form. But old Bender was right. If I had the 
 little dabs which fellows owe me in that way, I'd 
 go to Washington and start a "Freedman's 
 Bank." 
 
 "Now, yer a nice couple," said Bender, surveying 
 the pair. "What a pity it is that yer couldn't allus 
 be that way." 
 
 "So I say," responded Swipes. "You can't bluff 
 me out in that way. This jest suits." 
 
THE END OF LEAP YEAR 23! 
 
 Aunt Jane said nothing. She looked once as 
 though about to speak, but changed her mind and 
 stopped a sigh with a big spoonful of beans. 
 
 Mr. Bender indulged in other remarks of an 
 equally facetious nature, during which the couple 
 made a pretty clean sweep of what was left. And, 
 as if to add to the jollity of the party, when they 
 had finished dinner the storm ceased, the sun shone 
 out brightly and all hands (including Mr. Swipes) 
 sallied out to take advantage of the clearing off, in 
 such haste that they nearly forgot the umbrellas the 
 prudent Mr. Bender had brought with him. 
 
 Let me record it here, as an instance of the sin- 
 fulness of woman's nature, that Mrs. Bender so 
 arranged it that Swipes and Aunt Jane walked to- 
 gether, behind. I don't say, mind you, that this 
 was disagreeable to either of them I merely men- 
 tion it by way of illustration. Women like to fix up 
 these little matters between their friends, and I, for 
 one, don't feel disposed to quarrel with them about 
 doing it. 
 
 But to continue the thread of this eventful his- 
 tory. Swipes and Aunt Jane walked sturdily along 
 and our hero essayed to call up the fund of "small 
 talk" which he had been wont to use in days of 
 yore and which is supposed to be so agreeable to 
 the ears of the fair sex. The conversation never 
 flagged until the journey was nearly ended and the 
 
232 THE END OF LEAP YEAR 
 
 Bender mansion appeared in view when Swipes 
 became silent and lost in thought. Aunt Jane felt, 
 intuitively, that the unexpected might happen at 
 any moment. 
 
 "I was thinking," said Swipes, rousing himself 
 with an effort, "about it being Leap Year. Do 
 you suppose the ladies ever do?" 
 
 "Ever do what?" 
 
 "Why, you know. Pop the question. Propose." 
 
 "I don't know, I am sure," said Aunt Jane, 
 bridling. "I know this, though: If there's any 
 proposing that I am concerned in, it won't be me 
 that'll do it." 
 
 "Oh, certainly; of course not, though I wouldn't 
 mind it if you did. But I was thinking, as we came 
 along, how tough it is on a feller when he puts on 
 a pot of beans to cook and maybe has to set up and 
 watch 'em, when he's awful tired, cos, you know, 
 if they burnt it would all be for nothing." 
 
 "I don't know nothing about your nasty beans," 
 said Jane. 
 
 "No, dear, you don't; but I wish you would. 
 When I say beans, it means everything; salt to 
 season 'em, bacon to give 'em a right flavor; butter 
 to make 'em rich, with bread and sich things as a 
 relish. I've got the best claim on Greaser Flat, 
 but I ain't happy a bit; I want it to benefit some one 
 
THE END OF LEAP YEAR 233 
 
 besides me, who will cook the beans I eat. Jane, 
 will you do it?" 
 
 "No, I won't; at least I won't do it now, Mr. 
 Swipes. If you are in earnest, I may consider what 
 you have said, but I tell you flat I wouldn't agree to 
 cook beans all my life for the best man that ever 
 lived, the first day I saw him. There, now." 
 
 Mr. Swipes hung his diminished head and they 
 walked on in gloomy silence. But soon after, from 
 the frequency of his visits to the Bender's domicile, 
 it was whispered among the boys that Swipes was 
 "dead stuck" on Mrs. Bender's aunt, who, albeit, 
 a "maiden lady of uncertain age," was really not 
 much older than her buxom niece. And when, one 
 Sunday afternoon, Swipes came into Jake Ferry's 
 "Resort," and with a grin on his face a yard long, 
 asked all hands to "take su'thin," we knew that he 
 had reached the pinnacle of human bliss. 
 
 As everybody knows, or ought to know, how a 
 wedding is conducted, it will hardly be necessary 
 for me to give an elaborate description of the cere- 
 mony, and as to describing the trousseau of the 
 bride or the toilettes of the ladies, I simply can- 
 not do it. Slim Jim acted as the groom's best man 
 and to this day goes down to Gouge-Eye Point, as 
 in the bachelor days of his friend Swipes, when he 
 gets hungry for a "square meal," or feels inclined 
 to be sociable, for Aunt Jane proved to be a good 
 
234 THE END OF LEAP YEAR 
 
 soul and took to Swipes' old cronies kindly. But, 
 as in my last chronicle, there was no mention of 
 children and some growling about it, I shall briefly 
 mention that Swipes points proudly to no less than 
 five, including, of course, the twins. If that doesn't 
 satisfy the most punctilious stickler for details, I 
 don't know what will. 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 "Mr. Crumpey, I want a cook." 
 
 Mr. Crumpey removed the pipe from his lips 
 and stared at his wife in open-mouthed astonish- 
 ment. And no wonder. It was the first time since 
 the Crumpeys had joined hearts and hands that his 
 amiable lady had made her wishes known in a man- 
 ner so emphatic. "I mean what I say, Mr. Crum- 
 pey," continued the lady, when she saw her spouse 
 opposed only the vis inertia to the onslaught of 
 words she was prepared to throw at him. * I 
 mean what I say, I want a cook." 
 
 Mr. Crumpey restored the pipe and took two or 
 three whiffs before he became composed enough to 
 speak. Then he removed it again, and helplessly 
 asked, " Where in the world, Ann, can we get a 
 cook?" 
 
 "That's for you to find out, and find out soon, 
 too, I can tell you. It's nothing but cook and wash 
 dishes, cook and wash dishes, COOK AND WASH 
 DISHES from morning till night, with you lazing 
 
236 MRS. CRUMPEY' s BOARDERS 
 
 around smoking that stinking old pipe among the 
 men. And I won't stand it any longer." 
 
 It was quite evident to me, who was an unseen 
 listener to this matrimonial jar, that our usually 
 meek landlady was terribly in earnest. And evi- 
 dently Mr. Crumpey thought so, too. 
 
 "Well, Ann, never mind, that's a dear. I'll 
 write down to the city and see if we can get a girl 
 to come here, an' while we're waiting I'll help you 
 the best I can." 
 
 I venture to say that if Mr. Crumpey could have 
 foreseen what a scornful upturn of the nose his bet- 
 ter half in the future would be able to make, she 
 would never have been Mrs. Crumpey. 
 
 "Yes. You'll help. You helped last night when 
 I asked you to peel the potatoes for breakfast. 
 And you helped yesterday when I wanted you to 
 pick some beans. Ho, ho !" 
 
 u But, Ann, I had business " 
 
 "Business. Yes, playing cards with Robinson 
 and them other fellows." 
 
 "That was business," retorted Mr. Crumpey. 
 "When a feller keeps bar and fellers come in an' 
 want to play for the nips, he's got to make up the 
 game." 
 
 "How much profit did you make out of that 
 business?" asked Mrs. Crumpey. 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY S BOARDERS 237 
 
 "Well, Ann," said Mr. Crumpey, sheepishly, 
 "the boys did beat me." 
 
 "I know they did," said Mrs. Crumpey, tri- 
 umphantly. "I heard them talking how cheap 
 drinks had got to be, since they had got you to play 
 eucher. And all this time I'm slaving in the kitchen 
 for them and you. You won't send anywhere, Mr. 
 Crumpey. You'll go yourself and get somebody 
 to cook or this hash house closes." And Mrs. 
 Crumpey, feeling that no more need be said 
 bounced out of the room. 
 
 The boarding house on Hungry Gulch, the man- 
 agement of the culinary department of which had 
 been Mrs. Crumpey's special care from its start, 
 and which had thus been made a subject of conver- 
 sation between its owners, was one of those primi- 
 tive affairs which, starting from a log cabin of a 
 couple of rooms, had been added to from time to 
 time until it was now a pile of buildings. When the 
 Crumpeys first came to the Gulch the head of the 
 family was an honest miner, and his better half en- 
 joyed the distinction of being the only woman in 
 the camp. I have to record the fact that the claim 
 of Mr. Crumpey did not pay, and his prudent 
 wife being the better manager of the two, had 
 Crumpey put up a canvas addition to the house, 
 and took in a few boarders to help swell the family 
 earnings. The goodness of the viands set upon 
 
238 MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 the Crumpey's hospitable board was such that the 
 majority of the denizens of the once famed locality 
 sought quarters there, and Mr. Crumpey, nothing 
 loath to exchange a heavy pick for the role of mine 
 host, added that most necessary adjunct of a min- 
 ing place of business, a bar, to the other attractions 
 of the place. Thus far Mrs. Crumpey had done 
 all the kitchen work herself, but it was quite evi- 
 dent from the manner of that excellent woman, 
 that she had come to the conclusion that the work 
 was more than she cared to tackle. Mr. Crumpey 
 followed his good wife's example and disappeared, 
 but he took his way toward the bar instead of the 
 kitchen. It may be remarked en passant that I 
 had only recently become a boarder at the Hungry 
 Gulch hostelry, and that my presence there was 
 due to a big rock which caved from the bank, and 
 as it had to alight somewhere, fell, and not too 
 gently, on one of my feet. 
 
 Considering myself an invalid in a small way, I 
 had taken quarters with the Crumpeys, and at the 
 time I became an unseen confident of the Crum- 
 pey's family confab, was lying in my bunk, ab- 
 sorbed in one of the latest emanations from the pen 
 of that then favorite, Mr. J. F. Smith. 
 
 Well, would you believe it, but who should come 
 to Crumpey's that night for supper but Long Jake 
 and Missouri Bill. Mrs. Crumpey opined that 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 239 
 
 there were a couple more mouths for her to cook 
 for, for the first named gentleman signified to her 
 liege lord between mouthfuls, "that he had got 
 plumb tired of boardin' himself." Mrs. Crumpey 
 looked darkly at Mr. Crumpey and with a stern 
 nod told him to "remember what she had told 
 him." 
 
 "When are you going, Crumpey?" I asked, an 
 hour or so afterwards. 
 
 "Going where?" asked Crumpey. 
 
 "To the city. Ain't you going to get some one 
 to help Mrs. Crumpey? I heard you were." 
 
 "Who the d told you anything about it?" 
 
 demanded Crumpey, fiercely. 
 
 I blushed. Perhaps those who know me will be 
 inclined to dispute that fact, but it had only then 
 occurred to me that I had laid myself liable to im- 
 putation of being an eavesdropper. I confessed 
 the truth, however, and told him I had heard him 
 and his wife speaking about it. 
 
 "Oh, that's it, is it?" said Crumpey, who, when 
 he found that his wife had been airing her griev- 
 ance only to him, became mollified at once. "Well, 
 yes, Ann thinks the work is getting too hard for 
 her alone, and did speak to me about getting some 
 one to help her. I suppose I have to go to the city, 
 for I scarce know where to look for a girl with- 
 out." 
 
240 MRS. CRUMPEY S BOARDERS 
 
 " What's that Crumpey? Want a gal? Why 
 don't you ride over to the flat and get one of Col- 
 onel Stebbins' gals?" 
 
 "Didn't know there was a Colonel Stebbins at 
 the flat, or that he had any daughters," responded 
 Crumpey. 
 
 "But there is. The Colonel got in over the 
 plains last week, and is just restin' his oxen a bit 
 while he looks aroun'. He's got three gals, an' I 
 'spect one or two on 'em would like a job fust 
 rate." 
 
 "Are they good cooks?" queried Crumpey. 
 
 "Cooks? Oh, no, they can't cook. P'raps Je- 
 mima don't know how to make dodgers that'll jist 
 melt in yer mouth. Cook, well, I sh'd say they 
 did." 
 
 And Missouri Bill stroked his whiskers fiercely 
 at the idea of a doubt being entertained of the 
 culinary abilities of the Colonel's daughters. 
 
 "I'll ride over to the flat tomorrow, then," said 
 Crumpey. "Perhaps one of them will come and 
 help Ann while we're having this rush. Or maybe, 
 as you're acquainted with the family, you will go 
 for me." 
 
 It did not strike me at the time (although it did 
 afterwards), how readily Bill assented to this 
 proposition. Biut he did assent and next morning 
 was off on his mission, and before nightfall came 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY' s BOARDERS 241 
 
 back and imparted the intelligence to the waiting 
 Crumpeys that the Colonel's second girl, Jemima, 
 would come over next day, or as soon after, any- 
 way, as her pap could get a mule for her to ride. 
 And, sure enough, the next day they came. Need 
 it be said that the patronage of the Hungry Gulch 
 Hotel increased at once immeasurably. Mrs. 
 Crumpey had her burdens lightened but she was 
 now only a star of the second magnitude. The 
 young and buxom Jemima became the goddess at 
 whose shrine the single gentry of the Gulch came 
 to worship. Mrs. Crumpey was a woman, that 
 was all right, but Jemima was a "gal"; and the 
 consumption of the Sunday dinners at the Crumpey 
 house increased out of all proportion to what it 
 had been prior to the day of Jemima's advent upon 
 us. But this state of affairs was too good to last, 
 and when, one morning, Missouri Bill appeared in 
 his best suit of butternut jeans, all hands felt in- 
 stinctively that something more than ordinary was 
 about to happen. And it did happen. The fel- 
 low had bought Long Jake out in the cabin they 
 owned and before the swains of the Gulch realized 
 their danger, old Squire Besom came, and with a 
 few magic words robbed the Crumpeys of the at- 
 traction of their household, and transferred it up 
 the Gulch to Bill's cabin. 
 
242 MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 "It's no use cutting up about it, Mrs. Crumpey," 
 said Bill, when the lady reproached him for hav- 
 ing used their place as a sort of stepping stone. 
 "It's a fac' that Jemima and I had a sort of sneak- 
 in' notion for each other before I left the States. 
 I was powerful glad to get a place for her while 
 I was getting things fixed up, an' you've no call to 
 git roiled cos we didn't tell you all about it. Hope 
 you two will be sociable like, kase wimmen are 
 orful skase hyar. So long." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 For a few days the boarders of Hungry Gulch 
 Hotel fared rather badly. Our worthy hostess, 
 having had a spell of comparative leisure for a 
 month of Jemima's stay, did not take at all kindly 
 to the kitchen work again. Her first proceeding 
 was to start Crumpey out for another assistant, 
 and that gentleman having enjoyed greater peace 
 of mind for the past month than ordinary, while 
 the profits greatly increased, was not averse to be- 
 ing started out. But Mr. Crumpey, like others of 
 whom I wot, had a decided objection to any more 
 physical exertion than could be avoided, and again 
 fell into error of having others do for him what 
 he could have done himself. Instead of going to 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 243 
 
 the city, he wrote to his brother living there, ex- 
 plaining what he wanted, and the answer came in 
 the shape of the person of Miss Sophronia Gog- 
 gins, a lady of about thirty summers, who had thus 
 far steered clear of the shoals and quicksands of 
 matrimony. 
 
 Miss Goggins was not what one would call a 
 beauty, except, perhaps, by some far-fetched com- 
 parison. Of her antecedents little was known, but 
 that little was quite favorable, so far as was 
 requisite to the purposes of the house of Hungry 
 Gulch. But it was quite fortunate, perhaps, that 
 we do not all see an object from the same point of 
 vision, that what is beauty in the eyes of one, is not 
 to the eyes of his fellows, and vice versa. Now, 
 for instance, the Arab worships as a paragon of 
 loveliness, a woman whose face is "like a full 
 moon," and as a further illustration of the truth of 
 our position, travelers have written of tribes of 
 savages where female beauty depends upon avoir- 
 dupois. With either of the peoples I have named, 
 Miss Sophronia would have been at once set aside 
 and put out of the show of competition, for to look 
 at her, a man would think at first sight that he 
 could hang his hat on a projecting angle on al- 
 most any side. But whatever may have been Miss 
 Sophronia's imperfections of form and feature in 
 the opinion of your humble servant and those who 
 
244 MRS - CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 thought with him, it soon became evident that we 
 all did not think alike. And here, also, let me add, 
 that while said form and features might not have 
 been such as to excite the admiration of all the 
 lords of creation, she possessed one feminine attri- 
 bute which endeared her to our stomachs, if not 
 our hearts she could cook. 
 
 The first rain of the season had been one oc- 
 casion of the first accession of boarders at the hos- 
 pitable Crumpey home. It had come rather early, 
 but the Forty-niners had looked wise, told of the 
 downpour of the year previous, prophesied an un- 
 limited depth of snow in the mountains with flood 
 after flood along the river banks and the fresh- 
 'uns from the States could not for a moment offer 
 to dispute such high authority. So, when the first 
 storm came there was an exodus from the summer 
 claims to "dry diggins" and the claim owners of 
 Hungry Gulch were elated to find a house built to 
 their hands, where, instead of having to roll out 
 and kindle fires on a frosty morning, they could 
 stretch in their blankets in luxuriant ease, while the 
 matutinal meal was being prepared. And, once 
 having tasted these comforts it was hard to give 
 them up again as Crumpey kept his boarders, not- 
 withstanding the changes of administration, and 
 interregnums which came into the Crumpey 
 kitchen. Notable among the crowd which gath- 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 245 
 
 ered diurnally around the Crumpey board, was 
 Fat Jack, who, while I will not assert he was the 
 laziest fellow that ever lived, was certainly the 
 laziest I ever saw. Jack's partners had built a 
 cabin near the forks of the Gulch, but Jack showed 
 no disposition to occupy it, even after his partners 
 had left for Digger Flat, where they had found 
 claims in locating which, the name of Jack was 
 ex industria omitted. But, though the lymphatic 
 temperament of Jack kept him to the hotel rather 
 than do his own cooking, the blind god found his 
 way into Jack's heart, and it was not many days 
 before he showed such unmistakable symptoms of 
 being smitten with the charms of the angular So- 
 phronia, that the whole crowd of bummers were 
 on the cuidad to see what the next move would 
 be. We were not long left in doubt. Philoso- 
 phers who have made the amatory feelings of man- 
 kind a study, assert that men (and perforce wo- 
 men), seek their opposites in love. Jack was fat 
 and Sophronia was lean; he was short and dumpy 
 she tall, and thin enough almost to hide behind a 
 broom handle. He was disposed to take the world 
 as easy as he could, while she had enough "get up 
 and get" to supply a dozen such families. Is it any 
 wonder, then, if the theory of the aforesaid philos- 
 ophers be a true one, that the flourishing camp of 
 Hungry Gulch should have its romance, and that 
 
246 MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 from carrying an occasional bucket of water from 
 the Gulch to relieve the fair Sophronia from that 
 task when the meal hours close at hand demanded 
 her whole attention, Jack fell to thinking it would 
 be a good thing to pack water for Sophronia for 
 the whole of their natural lives. 
 
 Whether that was the identical process of reas- 
 oning in which Jack indulged we cannot say, but 
 certain it was, that before Christmas came we were 
 again favored with the presence of Squire Besom, 
 and in the presence of a few of the select (for 
 Jack knew that his course would not be approved 
 by the majority of his cronies), the words which 
 bound them together until death or the district 
 court should put them asunder were spoken. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 It was again my bad fortune to be a listener to 
 a dialogue between the Crumpeys about the new 
 situation in which the unlooked-for conduct of Fat 
 Jack and Miss Sophronia had placed the Hungry 
 Gulch establishment. But, having now been a pay- 
 ing boarder from the time the laws of gravitation 
 had caused the rock to injure my left pedal ex- 
 tremity, Mrs. Crumpey had come to regard me as 
 one of the family, and either for that reason, or 
 
The words which bound them together until death or the 
 district court should put them asunder, were spoken. (See 
 page 246.) 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 247 
 
 because she wanted the presence of one who would 
 probably side with her in what she had to say, Mrs. 
 Crumpey did not wait to get her liege lord by him- 
 self to become the recipient of a curtain lecture, 
 but boldly tackled him before me. And she com- 
 menced by hitting him in the tenderest spot your 
 average benedict can be hit. 
 
 "Mr. Crumpey, I want some money." 
 
 "How much, Ann?" asked that gentleman, 
 pulling a handful of silver from his pocket. 
 
 "More than youVe clawed up there," replied 
 Mrs. Crumpey, with a scornful look at his offer- 
 ings. "I want two hundred dollars." 
 
 "Mercy on me, Ann," said Crumpey, soon as 
 he could get his breath. "Why, there ain't that 
 much money in the house." 
 
 "Then go dig it up where youVe got it sunk," 
 retorted Mrs. Crumpey. "I was a fool to trust 
 anything to you in the first place. I shall go to the 
 city tomorrow, myself; and see if I can't get a cook 
 that will not pack off with the first man that asks 
 her to. Two hundred dollars, I say." 
 
 "Bless us, Ann; but what will the boarders do, 
 if you go away?" 
 
 "I expect they'll fare pretty poorly, if they de- 
 pend upon you. You couldn't leave your old eu- 
 cher game long enough to cook them a breakfast 
 if they were starving. But I've looked out for 
 
248 MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 them. I had sense enough to see that that Gog- 
 gins thing was going to make a fool of herself, and 
 that's why I wouldn't let you send the old 'Com- 
 municator' away. He can cook for you till I come 
 back. Two hundred dollars." 
 
 It was very plain to me that if Mr. Crumpey had 
 the sum she mentioned, which I did not doubt, that 
 she would get it, and sure enough the next day saw 
 her perched on Bill Somer's mule, ready to start 
 for the goodly city of Sacramento, the point from 
 whence our portion of the mines was supplied 
 with everything it purchased, from a paper of tacks 
 up. And as I shook hands with her and wished 
 her a successful journey, she said: 
 
 "Keep the boys in good humor, won't you, Mr. 
 Squills ? I'll hurry back. I'll bring some one back 
 with me that'll have some sense about you men." 
 
 It affords me great pleasure to chronicle the 
 fact, that Hungry Gulch got along famously for 
 a while after our hostess' departure. The "Com- 
 municator" was an old Oregonian, who had some- 
 how strayed up to his present quarters, and among 
 other frontier accomplishments, had acquired the 
 one to get up a good, plain meal for almost any 
 number of men. Unfortunately, he had a little 
 weakness (as all great men have), and this weak- 
 ness of the "Communicator" was gin and bitters. 
 He did not imbibe this mixture as a regular bever- 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY S BOARDERS 249 
 
 age by any means, nay, he knew his weakness and 
 fought manfully against it, but the fact was never- 
 theless, that in a most unexpected moment he 
 would seize with a desire for a potation, and if he 
 got it, would be howling drunk in no time after- 
 wards. As may be presumed the knowledge of this 
 failure of the webfoot gentleman was a bar to his 
 advancement, notably so in the previous case, for 
 Mrs. Crumpey had strong intentions of putting 
 him permanently in the place made vacant by the 
 perfidious Sophronia, and was only deterred from 
 doing so by the fear that some fine afternoon gin 
 and bitters would get the better of him and leave 
 her worse off than before. 
 
 But the "Communicator" had given her his 
 faithful promise to not look upon the tempter for 
 one week at least, and strong in her faith in his 
 promise, she set out on her mission. 
 
 Before the stipulated week expired the express- 
 man, making the regular trips brought copies of 
 the Times and Transcript for us, and a letter to 
 Crumpey. In the paper we saw her name in the 
 list of wants and Crumpey informed us, in high 
 glee, that his wife was going to bring a "widder" 
 up with her. 
 
 "She'll find she's raised thunder this time," 
 added Crumpey, with a huge grin. 
 
 "Thunder, why?" 
 
250 MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 "Bringin' a widder up here among you chaps. 
 Why, one widder'l do more towards getting you 
 fellers stuck after her in forty minutes than a gal 
 would in forty weeks." And Mr. Crumpey looked 
 as if he only hoped his auguries would prove true. 
 
 "Widders have a knack of getting fellers on a 
 string afore they really know it," continued Mr. 
 Crumpey, musingly. "I was pretty near being cor- 
 ralled by one back in Injianny I do believe, if I 
 hadn't hurried up matters with Ann that widder 
 would have married me agin my will." Mr. 
 Crumpey did not appear to derive the consolation 
 he should from this reflection, for he sighed 
 gloomily. 
 
 I did not press Mr. Crumpey for the confidences 
 he seemed so willing to unbosom himself of, but 
 went in to the kitchen to inform the "Communica- 
 tor" of the intelligence received. That gentle- 
 man, however, was so unsteady in his movements, 
 as he swayed over a big pan of dough for bis- 
 cuits, dropping ashes from his pipe into the mix- 
 ture every little while, that I saw he had yielded 
 again to his gin and bitters which would soon have 
 the mastery over him. 
 
 In due time, however, the expected ones arrived 
 and it did not take our worthy hostess long to dis- 
 cover that the "Communicator" had broken faith 
 with her and he was ignominiously hustled from 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 251 
 
 the premises. Our supper that night was made up 
 of odds and ends for I had imparted to the board- 
 ers the incident of the ashes in the dough, as a rea- 
 son why the nice looking biscuits should be ig- 
 nored, but we had a rousing breakfast, prepared 
 by the landlady and her new assistant, who was in- 
 troduced to us by the plebeian name of Mrs. Brown. 
 All the faith I had heretofore possessed in the good 
 sense and judgment of Mrs. Crumpey vanished as 
 soon as I saw what she had brought among us. 
 When Crumpey told me about the expected "wid- 
 der" I had immediately formed a picture of her in 
 my mind's eye wherein she was represented as fat 
 and dumpy, about forty years old, or on the shady 
 side of forty, skimp haired and toothless, with a 
 touch of rheumatics in her gait. But, how dif- 
 ferent from my preconceived opinions were the 
 facts. Imagine, if you can, a plump little woman 
 on the sunny side of thirty, with brown eyes and 
 golden hair, and a voice soft and musical as the 
 tones of a flute. I felt in danger of making a fool 
 of myself the first week she was there, and Bill 
 Sykes did. I learned this fact from Mrs. Crum- 
 pey, who I believe I have already observed, made 
 quite a confidant of me. "It's what you might ex- 
 pect, though," said I. "Such a nice looking piece 
 as Mrs. Brown must expect admirers." 
 
252 MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 "They can admire, if they want to, Squills, but 
 that's all the good it'll do 'em. She's had enough 
 of matrimony I can tell you. There ain't the man 
 living who can persuade her to put her neck in the 
 noose again." 
 
 The patronage of the house, which had fallen off 
 some under the regime of the "Communicator,-' 
 soon was back to and even beyond the former 
 standard. A live woman in the mines was in it- 
 self something out of the usual course, and when 
 to this was added the fact that the woman was 
 young, single and handsome, it is not to be won- 
 dered at, if the whole masculine population was 
 aroused. It was not long, either, that the hopeful 
 swains (most of them who had left an Eliza, Jer- 
 usha, Malvina, or some other female at home to 
 await their return with the much hoped for 
 "pile"), thinking probably the old saying of the 
 "early bird" would apply in this case as well as 
 others, began to show outward symptoms of the 
 hidden impulses of their hearts, which told us who 
 were unscathed, the truth, plainer than words could 
 have done. Let me say this, in praise of myself, 
 however, that after the first paroxysm of admira- 
 tion on my part, I had returned to my allegiance 
 to my Betsy Ann, and could contemplate the ma- 
 neuvers of my less trustworthy companions with the 
 utmost equanimity hence, probably, I was made 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY' s BOARDERS 253 
 
 the repository of the hopes and fears of more than 
 one who dared look forward in the hopes of pos- 
 sessing the fair widow at no very distant day. 
 After Bill Sykes got his quietus he abandoned the 
 Crumpey board and fixed up a cabin just below 
 the forks of the Gulch, for which action on his part 
 he got no credit. I think both Mrs. Crumpey and 
 the fair widow would have kept secret the tale of 
 his rejection, but he sulked so badly and avoided 
 his old resorts so entirely, that the crowd soon 
 dropped on to the state of affairs. "Shanky" 
 Myres gave his view of Bill's conduct when he 
 said : "Well, if I ax a woman to marry me an' she 
 don't want me, she can just go to thunder I shan't 
 let her spoil my appetite for good grub," which 
 sentiment met with high favor. Alas, poor Shanky. 
 What a difference there is between profession and 
 practice with us all. Shanky first gave indubitable 
 signs of having fallen a victim to the charms of the 
 widow by appearing at the dinner table one Sun- 
 day in the closing months of winter, rigged out in 
 a boiled shirt and a pair of thin boots. Arkansas 
 Joe went Shanky one better, having given a dollar 
 to Squire Besom's darkey to cut his hair. Not to 
 be outdone in the endeavors to make themselves 
 presentable in the eyes of the object of their soul's 
 affection, the rest of the widow's admirers were 
 not behind in the matter of personal adornment. 
 
254 MRS - CRUMPEY S BOARDERS 
 
 Dutch Bob even went so far as to buy a razor, and 
 shave clean. 
 
 Life was fast becoming a burden to Mrs. Brown. 
 Did she look into the sitting room (barroom I 
 mean), of an evening half a dozen were on their 
 feet in a minute in the hopes of something being 
 wanted. Did the water bucket get low some one 
 was there to fill it. If she escaped, after the day's 
 labor was over to read, one or the other would be 
 around, and even if he didn't talk to her, he looked 
 so wishful, that in the goodness of her heart she 
 would lay the book aside. But it was when Mrs. 
 Crumpey would leave the family apartment for the 
 night's rest, that the agony became unbearable. 
 There were always two or three watching for 
 an opportunity to have a word with her, for 
 her ears alone, and each would try to outsit the 
 other; so in self-defense she had put off to bed an 
 hour or two before she wanted to. But as I still 
 remained true to my allegiance to B'etsy Ann, she 
 instinctively felt that she could confide in me. "Oh, 
 Mr. Squills," said she to me, one day as I passed 
 by the kitchen door, on my way to the claim. "I'm 
 in a peck of trouble and want your advice." 
 
 "Tell me your troubles and you shall have it. It 
 may not be worth much, though." 
 
 "Oh, I'm pestered to death by these men." 
 
 "You ought to feel flattered, Mrs. Brown." 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY S BOARDERS 255 
 
 u But I don't. Here's Lord knows how many 
 of them want to marry me. And I can't marry all, 
 or any of them." 
 
 "Then tell them so and send them about their 
 business." 
 
 "That's what I've tried to do, and they won't 
 be sent. There's Arkansas Joe is a sample for you. 
 He says to me, 'You'll feel different some day, and 
 won't hate our sex so much an' I'll wait.' What 
 am I to do when men talk that way?" 
 
 "Well, the fellow is pretty well gone on you, I 
 must say. Is he the only one that has proposed?" 
 
 "No, Shanky has, and so has Mr. Hume. But 
 there's several more that want a word in private 
 with me, so they say." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Brown, it is a hard case to advise. 
 Why don't you set a time for each one when you'll 
 give him his answer. Have the same time for all 
 and mitten the whole caboodle at once?" 
 
 "What an idea. But I needn't have expected 
 any sympathy from you, or any other man. I de- 
 clare it's too mean. I wish they would do like Mr. 
 Sykes did. No, I don't, either. It would break 
 up Mrs. Crumpey's business. I've a great mind to 
 go away tomorrow." 
 
 "For Heaven's sake don't do that, Mrs. Brown; 
 if you do we'll have to fall back on the old * Com- 
 municator,' or else go to boarding ourselves." 
 
256 MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 "Well, I won't then," said she, relenting. 'That 
 is, I won't if I can help myself. I want to stay 
 here until spring, but I can't be pestered the way I 
 
 am." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Brown, I can't advise you any bet- 
 ter than I have." Just then Mrs. Crumpey came 
 in and I went out. 
 
 I believe I have already mentioned the fact that 
 I was in confidence of some of the would-be lovers 
 as well. Consequently I was not surprised when 
 Shanky took me one side the next Monday for a 
 confidential communication. 
 
 "I'm gettin' on bully with the widow, Squills. I 
 talked to her again last night, and she asked a 
 month to consider, perviding I didn't say anything 
 more. I'll be all right." 
 
 I could do no less than congratulate him. But 
 I wondered all the same, if Mrs. Brown had taken 
 my advice, after all. 
 
 A month is not a very long time. If I owe a 
 man a hundred dollars to be paid in a month, pay- 
 day comes around with frightful rapidity. But in 
 the present instance a month was only an ordinary 
 one to me, whatever it had been to Shanky. I had 
 entirely forgotten the conversation, when one after- 
 noon Shanky sought me once more. 
 
 "Tomorrow I'll know my fate, Squills." 
 
 "How is that, Shanky?" 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 257 
 
 "Month is up. She told me to come into the 
 sitting room at nine in the evening." 
 
 "And do you still feel confident as you did?" 
 
 "I don't know how I feel. Guess it will be all 
 right. I see she's thrown off on those other fel- 
 lows entirely." 
 
 The next day, however, the Hungry Gulch was 
 favored with a visit from a gentleman, whom we 
 couldn't put up. Shanky thought he was the fresh 
 one that was expected to buy the Hogem Claim, 
 while Joe was equally sure that if he stayed at the 
 Gulch he'd blossom out into a faro dealer. He 
 was not a miner, that was certain, for one look at 
 his hands was enough to show that he didn't handle 
 the pick and shovel. No one seemed to know him, 
 nor did he seem to know any one there, though he 
 sent his mule back and evidently intended to stay a 
 while. 
 
 "Busy this evening, Mr. Squills?" asked the 
 widow of me at supper time, in a low voice. 
 
 "Not that I know of. Why do you ask?" 
 
 "I'd like to have you come into the sitting room 
 after a while. Say about nine o'clock, if you can." 
 
 I promised I would and went on with supper. 
 As I had been in the habit of dropping into the 
 sitting room whenever I felt like it, I had no prep- 
 arations to make for the occasion, and would just 
 as like as not got into a game of seven-up with 
 
258 MRS. CRUMPEY'S BOARDERS 
 
 Crumpey, if Shanky had not come in with his 
 boiled shirt on. That reminded me that nine o'clock 
 was the time when he was to learn his fate, and I 
 wouldn't then have missed the appointment on any 
 terms. Pretty soon in came Arkansas Joe, and he 
 was dressed up, and looking around the room it 
 seemed as though the majority was going to a ball 
 or somewhere else, of feminine resort. 
 
 As it came near the appointed time I stepped 
 into the ladies' apartment, which I found empty 
 except for the stranger who came that day. Men 
 didn't need introductions in those days and it 
 wasn't long before we struck up an acquaintance. 
 Then the door opened and in came Shanky, who 
 looked at us as though he wished us well, any- 
 where except where we were. He was soon fol- 
 lowed by Arkansas Joe, and he by Hume, and so 
 they kept coming until there were about a dozen 
 of us and still no signs of the widow. But presently 
 she came in with Mrs. Crumpey. She was dressed 
 in her best and looked prettier than ever. 
 
 "Good evening, gentlemen," said she, in that 
 musical voice, "I am pleased to see you all here. 
 Let me introduce you to my husband, Mr. Brown, 
 who came today." 
 
 Talk of the silence of the tombs ! It would have 
 been revelry compared with that room. 
 
MRS. CRUMPEY S BOARDERS 259 
 
 u My husband and I have been estranged, but 
 all is explained now. And as friends of mine I 
 know that you will all be pleased at our reconcilia- 
 
 tion;' 
 
 Still silence. It was broken at last Shanky 
 
 Myres was first to break it. "Well, I'll be ," 
 
 said he, as he went through the door. Whether 
 human nature is deceitful or not, I do not feel 
 called upon to say. There were some who slipped 
 out after Shanky, but Arkansas Joe came up and 
 shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Brown. 
 
 "You told the truth, Mrs. Brown, when you told 
 me you couldn't marry. I give up, and only hope 
 Brown ain't come to take our cook away. This is 
 the first of April, an' I must say you've played it 
 bully on the hull bilin' of us." 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 Mr. Snively had swept off his doorstep, tidied up 
 his domicile generally, carried all the old boots, 
 breeches, gum clothes and other essentials of a la- 
 borer in hydraulic diggings into his woodshed, and 
 thus having righted everything in and about the 
 house to his supreme satisfaction had lighted that 
 constant companion of his lonely hours and lain 
 down on the improvised lounge on the porch to en- 
 joy life. 
 
 It will be needless, after the above resume of 
 Mr. Snively's operations, for us to add that he was 
 a bachelor. But he was, and apparently a con- 
 firmed one. Tradition pointed to the fact that 
 some twelve, fifteen years or more before, Mr. 
 Snively had been most assiduous in his attention to 
 one Lucy Jane Jones, eldest daughter of the local 
 physician of that name, who at that time had 
 reached the mature age of fourteen years. Also 
 that Mr. Snively' s then partner (Long Jake) had 
 made some remarks to him about the matter, in 
 which the words "trundle-bed trash" were more 
 than once repeated, and that as a consequence of 
 this unwarranted mixing in of Long Jake into mat- 
 
262 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 ters which were of no consequence to him, the firm 
 of Snively & Company was hastily dissolved, and 
 Long Jake hied to other quarters. But Lucy Jane, 
 finding that female charms were at a premium in 
 the matrimonial market of the times, while her own 
 budding beauties were rated far above those of her 
 sex who had advanced a few years farther along 
 the path of life, incontinently snubbed Mr. Snively 
 soon afterward, by going to an evening party with 
 Arkansas Bill, leaving Mr. Snively, who had called 
 at the doctor's residence with the implied under- 
 standing that he should be her escort, in a state of 
 great wrath and mortification. As Lucy Jane never 
 showed any signs of repenting the Arkansas Bill 
 episode, but persisted in encouraging the attentions 
 of that estimable gentleman until he, in turn, was 
 "left" for a Dutch butcher, with plenty of fat cat- 
 tle (who finally bore away the prize), Mr. Snively 
 felt that he must uphold the dignity of manhood 
 by letting Lucy Jane severely alone, which he did. 
 Hence what bade fair to be two loving hearts, 
 drifted further and further apart, and the only con- 
 solation Mr. Snively felt was first, when Arkansas 
 Bill was dropped, and second, the shrivelled, 
 baggy, draggled out appearance made by Lucy 
 Jane, after she had been the butcher's wife for ten 
 or a dozen years. 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 263 
 
 Being a gentleman of very orderly tastes, Mr. 
 Snively had fitted up his domicile with such an eye 
 to comfort and beauty, that it gave rise more than 
 once to the impression that the gentleman had, in 
 the many of the gentler sex who, from time to 
 time grew to womanhood, in, or essayed a brief 
 residence at, Blue Canyon, one who he felt was the 
 one above all others, fitted to take the place in his 
 heart once held by the perfidious Lucy Jane. But 
 the march of time served only to show the falsity 
 of these rumors, the wound had been too deep to 
 be so easily healed. Mr. Snively adorned his 
 porch with climbing, and the walk to his house 
 with monthly, roses, for his own gratification. He 
 papered the walls of his cabin with select cuts from 
 Harper's Weekly or Frank Leslie's Illustrated that 
 his own eye could have the pleasure of resting 
 thereon. He kept a cow because he liked plenty of 
 milk, raised cabbages, turnips and squash because 
 he had a nice piece of ground for that purpose, and 
 finally got himself a big double bed with two mat- 
 tresses, because he liked his comfort when the toils 
 of the day were over. No more thoughts of mat- 
 rimony found place in his mind, the society of his 
 tabby cat was all that he desired. Perhaps the fact 
 that many times since Lucy Jane's reprehensible 
 conduct had doomed him to single blessedness, that 
 the bedrock had come close to the surface, with no 
 
264 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 blue gravel on it, may have had something to do 
 with his fixed resolution. For it cannot be denied, 
 that under such circumstances, the expense of a 
 family, with grub and gum boots for himself, is 
 enough to make an expectant benedict shudder, and 
 one who is only contemplating matrimony from a 
 safe distance, rejoice, that a way of escape is yet 
 open. 
 
 We left Mr. Snively comfortably smoking. Ly- 
 ing upon the lounge we have described with his 
 feet at an angle of about thirty degrees above the 
 rest of his person, he watched the fragrant wreaths 
 as they curled in fantastic spirals and floated away, 
 and was supremely happy. Such is the soothing, 
 mollifying effects of a good conscience and good 
 tobacco. Suddenly he heard the gate of his yard 
 close with a bang, and looking lazily down the 
 walk, saw some of his neighbor's children ap- 
 proaching. Mr. Snively did not think it worth his 
 while to change from the comfortable recumbent 
 position he had taken, so he remained quiet. 
 
 "Mr. Snively," piped a little girl, u we have 
 come to ask you for a melon. " 
 
 "A millyon; yes, of course, glad to have you 
 come and ask for one, instead of spoiling half a 
 dozen for the sake of stealing one/' and Mr. Sniv- 
 ely good-naturedly rose and headed the procession 
 to the melon patch. 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 265 
 
 We have said nothing of melons heretofore, but 
 the fact was, that the Snively garden was famous 
 in the season for the luscious, juicy specimens of 
 that fruit which the scientific husbandry of our 
 friend caused it to produce. It was near the end 
 of the melon time now, and many a feast had the 
 little ones of Blue Canyon indulged in by the favor 
 of our bachelor friend, for he doted on children 
 thought almost as much of one as of a cat. We 
 regret much to say, that certain boys had taken ad- 
 vantage of Mr. Snively's absence to "plug" numer- 
 ous melons before they found some of sufficient 
 ripeness to tempt their boyish palates, at which pro- 
 cedure Mr. Snively waxed wroth and his usually 
 placid nature was so stirred up that he for a time 
 swore vengeance against the whole tribe of kids at 
 Blue Canyon. But in a few days the natural good- 
 ness of the Snively disposition, combined with a 
 large accession to the number of melons, led Mr. 
 Snively to reconsider his first determination and the 
 youthful privileges were restored. 
 
 Mr. Snively led the march to the melon patch, 
 and made the hearts of the youngsters happy at the 
 expense of the last ripe one he had. When it was 
 thus disposed of the time for conversation had 
 come. 
 
 "Why ain't you chaps at school, now?" 
 
 " 'Cos, we've got a vacation, sir." 
 
266 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 "A vacation ! That means that you are to run 
 wild till school takes up again. I don't see the use 
 of vacations, no how. You forget what youVe 
 learned before you git a chance to keep on. It's 
 just like miners what spend in the summer what 
 they've made in the winter time. How long will 
 this vacation last?" 
 
 "Only till school ma'am comes back, sir." 
 
 "Is the school ma'am taking a vacation, too?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; and mamma's gone with her." 
 
 "And who gets up the feed for your pap while 
 your mamma's gone? Not you, little coves?" 
 
 "Oh no, sir, papa's sister has come to see us. 
 She is having a vacation, too." 
 
 Mr. Snively opened his eyes widely at this infor- 
 mation. But he gave no further sign as they kept 
 on down the walk until the gate was reached. 
 
 "Tell you what, young 'uns. I want to see your 
 pap. Is he at home?" 
 
 "No, sir, he went up to Grub Creek this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "Well, tell him to come over when he can. I'm 
 going to take a vacation myself, and I'd kind of 
 like the old man to look out a little for things here, 
 while I was gone." 
 
 As the implied engagement of their worthy pro- 
 genitor seemed to promise them the freedom of the 
 melon patch when more ripe ones came on in the 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 267 
 
 due course of nature, the observations of Mr. 
 Snively fell upon attentive ears. With a promise 
 that his message should be given forthwith the 
 troop departed and Mr. Snively resumed his po- 
 sition in the grateful shade of the porch. 
 
 It was so fated, however, that the repose in 
 which Mr. Snively hoped to indulge, was again to 
 be rudely interrupted. For the genial Mr. Wells, 
 the fond parent of the brood which had made the 
 descent upon Snively, had suddenly changed his 
 mind about prospecting up Grub Canyon, and put- 
 ting off that venture until a cooler season, was at 
 home upon their return, and each rushed forward 
 to be the first in delivering the message. 
 
 u So," said Mr. Wells, "Old Bill is going to take 
 a vacation? I wonder what fool notion has come 
 into his head now? But he's a good feller, an' I 
 guess me and the young 'uns can take care of his 
 traps for him. Oh, Lizy !" 
 
 Eliza, who had just completed that everlasting 
 task of womankind, and got the dinner dishes 
 washed and put away, was in her room, fixing her- 
 self up (for she was a neat body), for the enjoy- 
 ment of the afternoon, so it took two or three calls 
 from Mr. Wells to bring her in sight. But she 
 came at last. 
 
 "Lizy, don't you want to take a walk?" 
 
268 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 "What, in this hot sun? Why, you must think 
 I'm stuck after walkin'. Where d'ye want me to 
 go?" 
 
 "Well, Bill Snively has sent word that he wants 
 to see me, an' I just thought I'd run over at once." 
 
 "It's not my place to go round callin' on your 
 people here, an' I ain't goin' to do it. When Mrs. 
 Snively has called on me it will be time enough for 
 me to go trapesing there." 
 
 "Mrs. Snively, haw, haw, haw. There ain't no 
 Mrs. Snively. Bill's a bach." 
 
 "An' you want me to be runnin' around to see 
 old baches ! Jehiel, what can you be thinking on ? 
 I saw one bach's house yesterday, an' a woman 
 couldn't get near the door 'thout spoiling her dress 
 on tobacco quids. No, indeed." 
 
 Mr. Wells didn't seem discouraged at this flat 
 refusal. He chewed his tobacco reflectively, tak- 
 ing no apparent offense at the remarks of his 
 maiden sister about the "tobacco quids" which had 
 excited her indignation and distrust when she spoke 
 of the approaches to the miner's domicile which 
 had obtruded itself upon her vision during the jour- 
 ney she had made. Mr. Wells had an object, and 
 felt that he must dissemble. What deceivers men 
 are! 
 
 "I think you'd better go, Lizy. 'Taint like what 
 you may think. Bill's an old pard we mined to- 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 269 
 
 gather on Squaw Flat twenty years ago. All these 
 wimmen run in on him just when they want to, and 
 the children are dead for him. Then he's got 
 peaches and pears and mellyons, an' the best lot of 
 garden sass to be found anywhere. He'll take it 
 powerful kind if we should come over." 
 
 Whether it was the thoughts of possible benefits 
 from the garden sass, or from a sisterly inclina- 
 tion to oblige, or from the general kindness of her 
 womanly disposition, we shall not now stop to in- 
 quire, but Eliza suffered herself to be convinced, 
 and putting on her broad hat, they were soon on 
 their way to Mr. Snively's humble abode. Upon 
 their way over Mr. Wells felt called upon to while 
 the tedium of the walk by pointing out various 
 spots, whose history had become familiar with him 
 during his many years of residence in that vicinage. 
 
 "Whar you see them three stumps, Lizy, thar 
 used to be a big cabin. Three Illinois men lived 
 in it. They all got stuck after the same gal, and 
 each feller thought he was goin' to get her. An' 
 each feller wanted to buy the others out in the 
 cabin." 
 
 "An' which won the prize, Jehiel?" 
 
 "Prize ! I say prize. Wait till I tell yer. Nei- 
 ther one would sell out, so they agreed to play cut- 
 throat euchre for the house the next Sunday." 
 
 "I hope the best lookin' man won it, Jehiel." 
 
270 MR. SNIVELY S VACATION 
 
 "But he didn't. Before Sunday come around 
 the gal throwed 'em all and married the most or- 
 nery looking Englishman you ever seed. Then they 
 went down to the store and all got on a big drunk 
 an' next day moved under a big tree, sot the old 
 cabin afire and sluiced away the ground it had 
 stood on." 
 
 "They should ha' been ashamed of themselves." 
 
 "Not much! It paid 'em a heap better than 
 their claim was payin'. I washed three or four 
 pans under the house myself, an' the gravel was 
 just lousy with fine gold." 
 
 In such instructive and edifying converse, Mr. 
 Wells occupied the time while making the transit 
 from his own domicile to that of our friend, 
 Snively. The last named gentleman, anticipating no 
 further interruptions for the day had thrown off 
 his coat and boots and with a chair thrown back so 
 that the light came over his shoulders (a practice 
 I recommend to all readers), and his feet planted 
 high on the wall of his house, was perusing (for 
 the fiftieth time) a well thumbed copy of "Pen- 
 knife Sketches." The click of the gate again fell 
 upon his ears, but thinking it was only the children 
 returning with a lingering hope that another melon 
 might be found, he kept his place, and a smothered 
 exclamation of "Drat them brats" was the only 
 token he gave of being disturbed. 
 
MR. SNIVELY S VACATION 271 
 
 But, when in response to some query of the 
 genial Mr. Wells, the voice of the maiden floated 
 out upon the heated air, Mr. Snively felt that he 
 had ueen L a'.en at a disadvantage. And certainly, 
 the scene of a six-footer getting his hoofs hurriedly 
 down, ?nd into the improvised slippers which a pair 
 of stoggy boots cut off at the ankle furnished, was 
 not one of remarkable beauty. But the gentle 
 Eliza was either too well bred, or too kind of heart 
 to appear to notice his confusion and by the time 
 the pair reached the porch he was entirely at ease. 
 
 Mr. Wells pei formed the ceremony of introduc- 
 tion with commendable ease. 
 
 "Bill, this is my sister, Lizy." 
 
 "Proud to see you, Miss Lizy, a visitor at my 
 humble abode. Take the rocking cheer." 
 
 Eliza graciously accepted the chair which Bill 
 had vacated. "You have a nice little place here, 
 Mr. Snively, quite a gem in this waste of forest and 
 
 mountain." 
 
 "Proud to hear you say so, for I do think it 
 about X. You see I have not lived here fifteen 
 years for nothin'." 
 
 "So long as that in one place? Why, I thought 
 you Calif orry men were all great rovers." 
 
 "So we was, until we larned that gadding about 
 didn't pay. But I think F 11 take a little turn now 
 if I can make things come right." 
 
272 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 u You contemplate making a visit, I under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "Well, maybe that's it. You see, Miss," con- 
 tinued Bill in an explanatory manner, "I've thort 
 I ort to take a vacation. I've got the bed-rock 
 about cut up, the ditch won't need no cleanin' till 
 fall, and there is no use makin' boxes to lengthen 
 out the flume till we're about ready to use 'em. I 
 ain't been away from here for fifteen years, an' I 
 just want to spludge around a bit." 
 
 "Where you goin' an' how long will you be 
 gone?" queried Wells. 
 
 "Coin' to see my old pard, Long Jake. He's 
 down in one of the Cow Counties by the Bay. The 
 cuss got married arter he left here an' writes me 
 about his place an' wants me to come down. May- 
 be I'll get enough of it in two hours an' maybe it'll 
 take a month or two. I thort I'd ax you if you 
 could look out for the place a little." 
 
 "Oh, sartin, me an' the young 'uns will do fa- 
 mous. I'll take the cow up with mine an' send 
 Sandy down every day to look after the chickens." 
 
 "An' the cat. Must give Tom plenty of milk 
 an' meat, too. I'd feel lost if anything happened 
 to the cat." 
 
 "Yes, an' the cat, too. Leave the key with ug 
 an' 'Lizy an' the girls will look out for the inside." 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 273 
 
 To this proposed arrangement Mr. Snively gave 
 an unqualified assent, and soon the group took its 
 departure, leaving that gentleman at liberty to 
 make preparations for the proposed journey. 
 
 "Well, I vum!" 
 
 Precisely what Mr. Snively meant by this ex- 
 pression is a hard matter for us to determine. In 
 my best judgment formed upon the fact that I have 
 heard church deacons, and others of presumed god- 
 liness use the expression, "I swow !" where a com- 
 mon sinner would have said, "I swear !" I am in- 
 clined to the opinion that it was a mild form of pro- 
 fanity which our friend indulged in, but that is only 
 an opinion, and it may be an incorrect one. Why 
 Mr. Snively should care to indulge in profanity of 
 any, even of the mildest kind, is utterly incompre- 
 hensible to me. 
 
 Mr. Snively did not "vum," however, until the 
 retreating forms of his late visitors disappeared 
 from view behind a bunch of chapparal. Then he 
 threw himself into his chair again with the excla- 
 mation we have recorded, and it was not many 
 minutes before the pipe was in full blast again 
 while the cat, which had been the object of so much 
 solicitude on his part, had jumped upon his knee 
 and was sending forth a melodious purr. But, for 
 once, the efforts of his prime favorite to attract at- 
 tention were fruitless. Kitty arched his back and 
 
274 MR. SNIVELY S VACATION 
 
 elevated his tail to an angle of about ninety-four 
 degrees, but Mr. Snively gave only a mechanical 
 stroke or two down Kitty's back and fell to musing 
 again. 
 
 Having made use of the phrase "Cow Coun- 
 ties," it is scarcely necessary for me to say that 
 when the various incidents herein so truthfully por- 
 trayed were enacted, it must perforce have been 
 anterior to the day when, it was gravely sought in 
 the Legislature of California to add a new section 
 to the Penal Code of the State by which hydraulic 
 mining was declared to be a felony, and he who 
 should thereafter endeavor to earn his bread by 
 turning the nozzle of his pipe against the bank be- 
 came a fit associate for the thieves and murderers 
 whom the lawyers delight in turning out upon so-* 
 ciety, to do more pillage and murder. The Golden 
 State had not yet been educated up to the belief 
 that the industry which had advanced the whole 
 Pacific Coast at least a century in the line of prog- 
 ress, was one to be throttled by the very ones who 
 had most profited by it. The "Cow Counties" were 
 the ones to which the steps of those who came 
 here, with at first no intention of remaining after 
 they had robbed the soil of a sufficient portion of 
 its richness, were being turned, to build up homes 
 for permanency, where they and their household 
 gods could repose in the waning years of life. That 
 
MR. SNIVELY S VACATION 275 
 
 part would be all right if they would still cherish 
 a kindly feeling toward the region that had en- 
 abled them to fulfill this cherished desire, but, alas, 
 when they became denizens of. the valley, too, 
 many of them forgot what they owed to the moun- 
 tains, and they, too, joined in the hue and cry 
 which said that mining must be stopped. 
 
 We left Mr. Snively thoughtfully stroking his 
 cat and ruminating upon the unexpected interview 
 which had just terminated. For, although Mr. 
 Snively was not a very impressionable gentleman, 
 we, as a truthful chronicler, will not attempt to 
 deny that a shadow of regret came into his 
 thoughts that he was going away, at all. While 
 not pretending to sound the depths of Mr. Sniv- 
 ely's heart, I venture the opinion that if he had 
 known the fact that Eliza had been added to the 
 Wells habitation before he committed himself to 
 the project of a visit to Long Jake, he might have 
 relegated the "Cow Counties" to that oblivion 
 which they should be and taken his vacation as he 
 had many times done before, in fishing and kill- 
 ing rattlesnakes on Gopher Creek, only a few miles 
 away. Not that Mr. Snively's case was one of love 
 at first sight, by any means. The image of Lucy 
 Jane, albeit she sometimes left her household du- 
 ties to assist her Dutch husband in the preparation 
 of the various kinds of "worst" which embellished 
 
276 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 the hooks in his shop, had been too firmly planted 
 in his heart to be thus easily dislodged. Even the 
 uncontroverted fact that Lucy Jane had presented 
 the miserable butcher quite a number of pledges of 
 their mutual love was not sufficient to drive that 
 image out, and one of Mr. Snively' s enemies (for 
 all good men have enemies) was heard to say that 
 Snively was only waiting for Fritz to kill himself 
 with beer, when the protestations would be re- 
 newed. But, inasmuch as Fritz grew fatter and 
 more jolly with the increasing libations of beer, 
 Mr. Snively's friends, while not doubting the sin- 
 cerity of the passion yet believed to be lingering in 
 his heart of hearts, treated the foul insinuation 
 with the contempt it certainly deserved. Knowing 
 Snively as well as I did (for we had wintered to- 
 gether on Shirt-tail Canyon when flour was two 
 dollars a pound), I had faith in him, and that 
 faith was justified by future events. 
 
 Whatever may have been Mr. Snively's 
 thoughts, there was no vacillation in his actions. 
 With the morning's dawn he had prepared his fru- 
 gal meal, eaten it and was all ready to leave Per- 
 simmon City soon as Joe Carver's train came along 
 with an extra mule saddled for his especial behoof. 
 Yet there was one thing undone leaving the key 
 of his house with old Wells, but as Wells lived on 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 277 
 
 the road he had to travel that was of but little mo- 
 ment. 
 
 "When can I look fer yer back, Bill?" inquired 
 Wells, as he pocketed the key. 
 
 "Don't know, mebbe one month, mebbe two. I 
 been cookin' for myself now for goin' on twenty 
 year. If Long Jake's wife knows how to cook 
 p'raps I'll stay till it begins to cloud up." 
 
 "Stay long's you please. Lizy an' me an' the 
 kids will look out for things." 
 
 By this time Joe Carver was in sight and after 
 a few parting words the two cronies separated. 
 
 It is needless for me to say that all of Mr. Sniv- 
 ely's injunctions in regard to the cat and the chick- 
 ens were carried out to the letter. But the melon 
 patch, not being explored with that knowledge 
 drawn from experience, was the bar on which the 
 youthful Wellses were wrecked. It was not until 
 two of them came near being victims to cholera 
 morbus that Eliza, seing the necessity of a discern- 
 ing mind and restraining hand, took it upon herself 
 to accompany all expeditions to Mr. Snively's dom- 
 icile and superintended proceedings herself. 
 
 It happened to be about the end of a week after 
 Mr. Snively's departure before Aunt Lizy came 
 to this conclusion and accordingly repaired to the 
 Snively habitation with the Wells brood. Her 
 housewifely ideas were hopelessly wounded as the 
 
278 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 door was opened and she stepped inside. In the 
 hurried preparations for departure Bill had neither 
 washed the breakfast dishes, swept the floor or 
 made his bed, aside from which the floor was lit- 
 tered with melon seeds, chicken feed and the tails 
 and bones of certain ground squirrels which 
 Thomas had captured and brought into the house, 
 the better to enjoy. To think was to act with 
 Eliza, and it was just no time when the bed was 
 made and cabin swept, by which time water was 
 heated and she was winding up with the breakfast 
 dishes of more than a week before. 
 
 All this is very prosaic. Women, since civiliza- 
 tion has assumed sway are expected to pass their 
 lives in one continuous round of sweeping, bed- 
 making, cooking and washing dishes. The sphere 
 of "lovely woman" in Free America seems to be to 
 cook and wash dishes. Soon as the dishes used at 
 one meal are cleansed the thrifty housewife must 
 begin preparing something to dirty them again. 
 This, with the other household cares of sweeping, 
 bed-making and attending to the brats constitute 
 the average life of women, and no wonder some of 
 them want to vote. If they can vote the dish pan 
 out of their realm I don't blame them. Why don't 
 they do like we did, at one time. The plate used 
 for Monday morning's breakfast would be turned 
 religiously bottom side up and would serve well for 
 
MR. SNIVELY S VACATION 279 
 
 dinner and supper, when it would be ignominiously 
 relegated to the domain of dirty dishes. Tuesday 
 morning a fresh plate would do like duty and so 
 throughout the week, and on Sunday morning, 
 armed with half a flour sack fastened by a nail to 
 the end of a pine stick for a dish rag, and a whole 
 flour sack for a wiping cloth, Bill would tackle the 
 dishes. There were some aristocrats who washed 
 dishes at every meal or at the end of each day, any- 
 how, but they were the exception and not the rule. 
 
 We have said this is all prosaic. So it is, but being 
 facts, in view of what follows hereafter they must 
 be duly chronicled, so we resume at the point of our 
 narrative where Eliza had got at work washing the 
 breakfast dishes. There not being many of them 
 the task was nearly over when the door opened 
 and in stalked Mr. Snively. 
 
 u Lawk a mercy! Mr. Snively," screamed the 
 maiden, dropping the plate in hand in her surprise. 
 "Who on airth would have looked for you now? 
 I declare to goodness you have nearly scared me 
 out of my wits. Well, well, well !" 
 
 "Well, I don't think there was much to be 
 skeered about. But what on arth were you fixin' 
 things up now for?" 
 
 "Time enough, you would say, if you had seen 
 how things looked when I came over today for the 
 fust time. A pretty mess the children had made 
 
280 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 of this room. That reminds one that they are about 
 somewhere, and the sooner I get them together the 
 better." She opened the door and called: "You 
 children, come. It's time for us to go." 
 
 The children, who had divided into bands, one 
 of which was exploring the melon patch in the hope 
 that there might be a half-ripe one left, while the 
 other had begun a vigorous assault on the black- 
 berries, soon came trooping in. 
 
 Being thus relieved of any chance for a reflection 
 being cast upon her good name by reason of her 
 enforced company with the solitary Mr. Snively, 
 Eliza felt the duties of hospitality to become para- 
 mount, so when rising to take her departure she 
 turned to Bill, "You must be tired, Mr. Snively, 
 and there is nothing cooked in the house. I trust 
 you will come over and take supper with Jehiel 
 and I." 
 
 "Thankee, marm; but I'm plumb tired out. I 
 thought I'd find Jim's pack train at the stage house 
 but it had gone over yesterday, so I just took my 
 bundle and walked over, like them fellers they call 
 carpet-baggers down South. I want a rest, and as 
 for supper, I've got some crackers and oysters here 
 that'll fix me out in good style." 
 
 At the mention of "oysters" young Simon turned 
 pale as a ghost and the others edged toward the 
 door. These movements were not lost on Eliza, 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 281 
 
 who, albeit a single female, was better versed in the 
 wiles of the kids than was the guileless Snively. So, 
 as a parting salute, she again extended a welcome 
 to the supper table, and the further assurance that 
 she would "set a plate for him, for she knew that 
 when rested he would be fearfully hungry." 
 
 "Well, I vum!" growled Bill, as the last of the 
 retreating forms disappeared through the gate. As 
 we have already given a disquisition upon the verb 
 active "vum," we have no space for further re- 
 marks except that it be to say that Mr. Snively was 
 only known to "vum" when much excited, or much 
 surprised. 
 
 When the Snively cabin was freed from the res- 
 traint imposed upon it by the presence of the divine 
 Eliza, its occupant threw himself upon the newly- 
 made bed and was soon in the enjoyment of that 
 restive feeling which comes to the average man 
 after a long and weary tramp. This continued 
 until the darkening shadows admonished him that 
 as he was possessed of a stomach which had taken 
 in no sustenance since he had taken an improvised 
 lunch with China Jim, and had walked eighteen 
 miles since, Mr. Snively realized that a supper of 
 canned oysters taken just before going to bed would 
 probably yield a goodly crop of bad dreams before 
 morning, and wisely determined to have supper at 
 once. A few sticks of wood placed upon the em- 
 
282 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 bers of the fire Eliza had utilized for heating the 
 dish-water soon leaped into a flame and with 
 lighted candle he explored his pantry in search of 
 the coveted oysters. 
 
 Horror of horrors ! not a can of the luscious bi- 
 valves could be found. Of the half dozen cans he 
 had left upon the shelf, every one had disappeared. 
 
 "It's them dratted Wells boys/' said Mr. Snively 
 when the situation dawned upon him. "If I'd 
 a thought old Wells would have no more sense than 
 to send them covies over here to look out for things, 
 he'd never got that key, gol darn him! What in 
 thunder will I do for supper, now?" 
 
 As we have already foreseen, there was nothing 
 for the old codger to do except to go over to 
 Wells's and see if that "plate had been kept for 
 him." It had, and although more than an hour 
 had passed since Eliza wended her way homeward, 
 the evening meal was just being put on the table. 
 Perhaps the fact that Eliza knew something of the 
 inner consciousness of man's nature, and therefore 
 caused a couple of spring chickens to be sacrificed 
 had something to do with the delay. 
 
 "Just in time, Bill," greeted Jehiel. "We felt 
 sure you'd come. Now sit down and no talk until 
 we get rid of this." 
 
 The command was duly obeyed and it was not 
 till a goodly pile of bones lay beside his plate that 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 283 
 
 Snively felt he had done his whole duty as a man. 
 Although Jehiel's appetite had not been sharpened 
 as Mr. Snively's had, he stood manfully up to the 
 trencher, and it was not until he could store away 
 no more that he gave in. It was quite evident from 
 his actions that a chicken supper had not an every 
 day assurance with him. 
 
 "Now, Bill, tell us about your trip. Jake all 
 right?" 
 
 "All right as far as a feller full of fever'n ager 
 can be," growled Bill. 
 
 "Fever an' ager! An' they've got that where 
 Jake lives, too?" 
 
 "Got it everywhere along there. Jake an' his 
 wife, an' her sister all look yaller as brass an' thin 
 as walkin' skeletons. The young ones look better, 
 but still they keep blue mass an' quinine in the house 
 for 'em like they did catnip and squills in our fam- 
 ily. Then they have muskeeters all the year round, 
 gnats in their season an' such weather!" 
 
 "Then you didn't have a very pleasant time, Mr. 
 Snively. It's a wonder you didn't think of bringing 
 Mrs. Jake's sister to your own delightful climate." 
 
 Traces of deep-seated anguish appeared upon 
 Snively's brow. Here, within the ten days past he 
 has stamped the image of Lucy Jane out of his 
 heart, and if he had ever cherished any thoughts of 
 succeeding to the Dutch butcher when that person- 
 
284 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 age should go the way of all butchers (Dutch or 
 otherwise), dismissed them from his mind, for her, 
 above all people in the world to intimate the pos- 
 sibility of his bringing in a successor to Lucy Jane, 
 was terrible. He could not trust himself to reply, 
 but cut tobacco in silence. When that job was com- 
 pleted he and Jehiel passed out to the porch, where 
 they solaced themselves to the fullest extent. 
 
 As this history only deals with facts, we will state 
 right here that the first sight of the amiable Eliza 
 had done more to drive away any and all day- 
 dreams which Mr. Snively had indulged in regard- 
 ing Lucy Jane than had all the events of all the 
 years since the Dutch butcher had borne off the 
 prize. Furthermore, his change of thought was 
 intensified by the recollection of the form of Eliza 
 as she appeared to his vision when he came unex- 
 pectedly upon her and found her engaged in wash- 
 ing the dishes at his domicile. He felt that wash- 
 ing dishes was an utterly unmanly occupation, a 
 thought which had never before invaded his mind. 
 No wonder that Eliza's query about Long Jake's 
 sister-in-law caused him untold mental agony. 
 Without deigning a reply, he arose and stalked out 
 to the porch, where he and Jehiel soon sought 
 solace in their pipes. 
 
 Mr. Snively was too tired to think when he re- 
 turned to his cabin that night, and throwing him- 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 285 
 
 self into bed he speedily became oblivious of all 
 mundane affairs. But when he awoke in the morn- 
 ing, saw the cabin as nicely swept as he had ever 
 kept it, looked at the array of clean dishes on the 
 table which Eliza's maiden modesty would not per- 
 mit her in his solitary presence to remove, and felt 
 how comfortable a night he had passed in the bed 
 made by better skilled hands than he could hope his 
 ever to become, he resolved to once more try his 
 chances with womankind. Certain crude ideas that 
 flitted across his brain that it was the duty of every 
 man who could to support a woman, led him to 
 think that it was a sense of duty toward the sex 
 which impelled him onward but I know better. 
 Men and women, too, are selfish. I am get- 
 ting cynical in my old days, and having been 
 "nipped" a few score, or hundred, of times, begin to 
 question the motives of any one who proposes some- 
 thing to my advantage. I begin to look and see 
 where it will be to his or her advantage, too, and 
 find that the other side would generally get the best 
 end of the bargain. 
 
 However, moralizing will not bring the story of 
 Snively's love and wooing to a conclusion. As a 
 preliminary to any overtures he might essay to 
 make, he felt that the inner man must first be ap- 
 peased. His sour dough was, of course, spoiled; 
 but he could probably get a starter for more from 
 
286 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 Doc. Stumple, who, like himself, used that kind of 
 yeast, and looked with scorn upon the "salt emp- 
 tins" and "hop raisens" which the women folk 
 used. As Mr. Snively had not yet broken his fast, 
 and had nothing to break it on except crackers and 
 coffee, he hied at once in search of what was needed. 
 A box of yeast powders, for present use, some 
 stale meat from the Dutch butcher (who since the 
 camp had gone down only killed twice a week) , 
 and some butter sufficed for the morning meal, and 
 Mr. Snively again lighting his pipe began to lay out 
 a plan of siege for the affections of Eliza. 
 
 We have elsewhere written that true love, like 
 true merit, is always modest. Hence, it may easily 
 be inferred that Mr. Snively's suit did not prosper 
 to that estimable gentleman's satisfaction. Snively 
 put on his best clothes and walked over to Jehiel's 
 again and again, but always came away with the 
 decisive words unspoken. And it might have been 
 that this history would have remained forever un- 
 written but for some words dropped by Simon, the 
 youth who had disposed of most of the oysters in 
 Bill's absence; who one evening, after he had taken 
 a second supper with Bill volunteered the informa- 
 tion that "Aunt Lizy was goin' away next Mon- 
 day." 
 
 "What for?" asked Snively, almost jumping 
 from his seat in surprise. 
 
MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 287 
 
 "Cos mother's comin' back, an' then Lizy is 
 goinV 
 
 Mr. Snively felt that the moment for action 
 could not be much longer postponed. It was not 
 until the following Sunday, however, that he 
 summed up courage to ask Eliza out to walk. 
 Often was the question on his lips, and as often 
 would the remembrance of the snub he had received 
 from Lucy Jane many years before, come up and 
 crowd it back. It was not until they were on their 
 return that he spoke. They were then passing Bill's 
 own house. 
 
 "That's a nice piece of garden land, ain't it, Miss 
 Wells?" 
 
 "Very; you ought to raise all the garden sass you 
 need." 
 
 "It will raise enough for two, easy. What do 
 you think of that house?" 
 
 "'Tain't much," said Eliza scornfully. "I guess 
 it will do well enough for you though." 
 
 "But if I tore down the woodshed and put on an 
 addition of three or four rooms, would it be big 
 enough for two?" 
 
 "I think it would," said Eliza, demurely. 
 
 "An' oh, 'Liza, will you be one of the two?" 
 
 There are some situations too sacred to be in- 
 truded upon. What reply was made by Eliza can 
 only be inferred. The loving couple hooked arms 
 
288 MR. SNIVELY'S VACATION 
 
 and proceeded in silence to the Wells residence. 
 But Bill was too bashful to go in and they parted on 
 the porch. Before the retreating form of Bill 
 passed out of the gate young Simon was in at the 
 back door. 
 
 "Oh, pop, what do you think I seed. Old Bill 
 Snively a kissing our Lizy out on the porch." 
 
 "What's this, Lizy?" asked Jehiel, of that lady, 
 who just then entered. "Can't you and Bill Snively 
 part without a farewell kiss?" 
 
 "He's got a right now to kiss me, sir," said 
 Eliza. 
 
 "Bully for you, Lizy; that little yarn I made up 
 an' got Simon to tell him about your goin' away 
 brought him to taw. An' it needed somethin' of 
 that kind to do it." 
 
THE STORY HE TOLD THE 
 PROSPECTORS 
 
 "What I'm going to tell you fellers, now," said 
 Smith to a couple of quartz prospectors, who had 
 stopped at his cabin for several days while tracing 
 up some "float," "happened more'n thirty years 
 ago. I was pretty hostile about it at the time and 
 felt like punching Ned Thompson's head, but I 
 soon got over it an' made up my mind that it had 
 turned out the best for me. And " (here he looked 
 dolefully at the furnishings of his cabin), "the 
 longer I live the more I think so. 
 
 "Ned Thompson went away from these parts to 
 one of the cow counties eighteen years ago. Thar 
 was five young^ uns then, and I've heard there's five 
 more since then. What I could have done with 
 such a lot after the claim on Coon Point petered 
 out on us, as the lawyers say, 'deponent sayeth not.' 
 I hadn't thought of it for years, but there's so much 
 in the newspapers now about the 'new woman,' 
 what she will do and how she will do it, that I 
 kinder got to thinking how one of the old style of 
 women did once, and so I'll have to unburden 
 my mind and tell it. 
 
THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 
 
 "As I told, or rather hinted, I was minin' at the 
 time on Coon Point. Jo Lyons was my pard, and 
 a mighty good pard he was, too. I'd go into a 
 claim with him tomorrow, if he was here, but Jo 
 passed in his checks ten years ago, an' I trust an' 
 believe, he is in that city with golden streets, where 
 there's no need of minin'. We had two claims 
 Jo represented us in one, I in the the other. The 
 claims were about two miles apart, so it sometimes 
 happened that Jo an' I didn't see each other for a 
 fortnight or three weeks at a time. Don't get tired, 
 because I am so long-winded I want you to un- 
 derstand the thing as it went along. Sometimes Jo 
 would come up, then sometimes I'd go down, but 
 generally we would come together Sunday at Glea- 
 son's store near the forks below here. There's no 
 store at The Forks now the last proprietor gave 
 too much credit an' busted out, but in those days 
 there was quite a settlement at The Forks. There 
 was a store an' blacksmith, an' butcher shop, an' 
 a sort of hotel, where you could get bacon and 
 beans twenty-one times a week, an' other fixin's. 
 A feller named McLeman kept the hotel. I don't 
 know as he was the laziest man I ever saw, but I 
 think he was, an' it was a fact that in them days 
 that when some lazy coot had a wife he'd quit 
 minin' an' keep a hotel. Then the woman would 
 do the cookin' and he'd tend bar (for there had to 
 
THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 29 I 
 
 be a bar), an' what money they made he'd gen- 
 'rally lost at poker or loo, for there was always a 
 card-sharp boardin' at the hotel, waitin' to catch 
 the landlord. McLeman had married a widow 
 and she had a gal about fifteen years old. Well, 
 one Sunday afternoon I was home. Had been down 
 to the store, heard that Jo had been down some- 
 time in the week an' got a lot of grub packed to 
 his house. I knew then there was no division of 
 dust from the claim Jo was working and only won- 
 dered why he had not waited until I come, to see 
 if I had any for him. But we were pards, and I 
 tell you, boys, pards had to trust, and did trust, 
 each other in those days. Sometimes pards would 
 be men that never seed each other till they got 
 working a piece of ground together, but they 
 trusted each other, and was gen'rally right, though 
 there were some fellers what would steal from 
 themselves, doggone 'em ! Well, it was pretty near 
 night when here comes Jo. He had his hair cut 
 and was rigged out in a bran-new suit of store 
 clothes, and I hardly knew him. He sot down an' 
 we talked about the diggin's for a while, an' then 
 about a lawsuit some of the boys were going to 
 have about water, an' then I couldn't think of any- 
 thing else, an' Jo didn't, either, so we sot thar and 
 smoked. Then all at once he breaks out like a vol- 
 cano. 
 
292 THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 
 
 "Sam," he says. "I want you to be on hand, 
 Wednesday." 
 
 "On hand for what?" says I. 
 
 "I want you to be my best man, then." 
 
 "All right, Jo," says I, "weVe stood in together 
 more'n once, an* I'll be with you agin. I'll ile up 
 my pistol, an' we'll stan' 'em off." 
 
 "Sho," he says, "you don't need any pistol. 
 Thar ain't any fighting to be did, as I know of." 
 
 "Then, Jo, I'm off my nut a little, I guess. Don't 
 you mean that you want me to stick by you in some 
 trouble, same as you did by me an' Posey when we 
 had that row with the North Carolina crowd?" 
 
 "Not a bit, Sam. I always knew you was a good 
 friend, and I want you to be my best man when I 
 get married." 
 
 "It took my breath away to hear him talk. At 
 last I says: 'You get married? Git!' 
 
 "There's no git about it," says Jo. 
 
 "None of your April-fool tricks at this time of 
 the year, Jo, if you please. They're out of sea- 
 son!" For Jo had played me a consarned sharp 
 one the year before, and I had felt a little sore 
 over it. 
 
 "It's nothing of the kind, Sam," he persisted. 
 "I am goin' to get married and need your help a 
 bit." 
 
THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 293 
 
 "Well, Jo," says I, "I am bound to b'lieve you. 
 Now who is the happy lady?" 
 
 "I don't know yet how happy she'll be, but it's 
 Susan." 
 
 "Susan!" says I, jumping up. "You're mor'n 
 twice as old." 
 
 "That's so. She's fifteen an' I'm thirty-five. 
 That's mor'n twice, but when she's thirty I'll be 
 fifty, a good deal less than twice. An' if we live 
 till she's sixty I'll be eighty. She'll then be three- 
 quarters as old as I." 
 
 "Good arithmetic, Jo," says I. "Have you 
 figured out how long it will be till she gets to be the 
 oldest?" 
 
 "Naw !" says Jo, "no call for that. But will you 
 stand in with me?" 
 
 "Sartin, Jo, sartin. But I'm chock full of curi- 
 osity to know how you ever spunked up courage 
 enough to ax a young gal like Susan to marry you." 
 
 "Sam, the fact is she axed me." 
 
 "Axed you?" 
 
 "That's what she did. Here's her letter to me." 
 An' Jo took it out of his vest pocket an' handed me. 
 "Stop a minit, an' I'll read it to you. Maybe you 
 boys will wonder why I got this letter an' kept it, 
 but you'll larn afore I git through." And Mr. 
 Smith opened an old desk and produced a faded 
 
294 THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 
 
 letter which he read to the prospectors. It ran this 
 way: 
 
 Do not think strangely of me at what I am writing. My 
 stepfather makes my home so uncomfortable for me that I 
 want a home, shared only with one who will love me. You 
 can build up such a home, which will be a paradise on earth 
 to me. It is leap year, or I would not dare address you as I do. 
 
 If you consider my proposal favorably, consider yourself 
 invited to be my partner at the Leap Year ball, at Logtown. 
 Of course, I cannot come to take you there, but if you will 
 have a rig at our house a little before dark, I will leave, never, 
 never to return. If you cannot come yourself, send some one 
 you can trust and we will meet at Logtown, when my happi- 
 ness, and, I trust, yours will be assured. 
 
 SUSAN. 
 
 "That's pretty straightfor'ard, Jo," says I. 
 "Now what do you want me to do ?" 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you, Sam. I've got a couple of 
 hosses, an' Watkin has promised me his wife's side- 
 saddle. I want you to git the gal and take her to 
 Dogtown. I'll be thar and have the Squire right 
 on hand quick as you git thar. Then, I suppose 
 she'll have some fool notions about havin' some- 
 body to 'stand up' with us; if she does you'll be the 
 feller. Then we'll all go to the Leap Year ball. I 
 want it all over quick, 'cause if old Me got it into 
 his head he'd shoot. I wouldn't mind that much, 
 only I don't want any shootin' in the family." 
 
 "Of course I agreed to go, and at sundown I 
 hitched the hosses to a couple of trees and went to 
 Old Mc's place. They had just done supper, ex- 
 
THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 295 
 
 cept one or two fellers of that kind that is always 
 behind. 
 
 "Old Me was as full as a tick that had been on 
 a dog's neck for a month. I know the old codger 
 fust rate; many were the games of euchre I played 
 with him for the drinks. When Susan saw me she 
 said somethin' to her mother an' went off. It 
 didn't take a gal three hours to dress in them days, 
 and pretty soon she came back all rigged to go, 
 with some of her duds in a little satchel. Old Me 
 had been tryin' to get me to play euchre, but, of 
 course, I didn't bite an' as quick as I got away from 
 him I followed Susan. As luck would have it the 
 old scoundrel followed me an' just as I was open- 
 ing the side door to go out, in he came. 
 
 "What's this, Suke?" (You see, in those days 
 we didn't have any Susies, or Mamies, or Netties, 
 or any of that kind of names the gals all have now- 
 adays. What is now Lizzie was called Poll or 
 Polly. Mary was Moll and Susan was Suke. If 
 you wanted to and was on good terms enough you 
 could call 'em Sukey or Molly, spelt with a y, too, 
 all the time, too, and don't you forget it. ) 
 
 "Whar you goin' in that rig, at this time of 
 night?" bseitt 
 
 "I've asked this gentleman to be my partner to 
 the Leap Year ball." 
 
296 THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 
 
 "Well, this gentleman can go to the Leap Year 
 ball without your escort, or not at all. A fine thing 
 for a gal of your age goin' to a ball, without your 
 mother is with you. We had enough of that when 
 you went to Grimshaw's dance with that bullet- 
 headed Thompson. Go an' get them traps off an* 
 help your mother with her work." 
 
 "But, pap, I asked this gentleman to go, like all 
 the other gals are doin' and I hate to disappoint 
 him. Didn't I ?" turning to me. 
 
 "In strict truth she had not, but it would not do 
 to contradict, so I answered and lied like a gentle- 
 man should. 'Yes, sir; I am here in consequence 
 of this lady's invitation.' 
 
 "Then you can get out of here on my invitation. 
 There's the door; mosey along." 
 
 "I moseyed. It was not a very graceful thing to 
 do, but the old fellow had the say on me. As I 
 stepped out of the side door and slammed it after 
 me, Susan slipped out through the barroom and got 
 a chance to whisper to me to 'wait for her awhile 
 at the forked spruce.' Just then Old Me came 
 out and she said loud enough to be heard forty 
 feet: 'Good night, Mr. Lyons; sorry to have to 
 disappoint you.' 
 
 "I took leave of Susan as if I wouldn't see her 
 for the next ten year. I untied my horse and rode 
 down the creek a ways till I was out of sight, then 
 
"Then you can get out of here on my invitation, 
 the door; mosey along." (See page 296.) 
 
 There's 
 
THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 297 
 
 took a trail I knew and was soon at the forked 
 spruce. An 1 I hadn't been there ten minutes when 
 she came. 
 
 "Did you have any trouble after I left?" I asked 
 her. 
 
 "Not a bit. He went in an* took another drink 
 an' sat down in the chair and was snoozin' in no 
 time. Now, if you please, we'll mount an' be off." 
 
 "We mounted an' we clattered away to Logtown 
 in short order. When we got in town the hotel 
 was all lit up. I handed her into the parlor an' 
 told her I would hurry up Jo an' the Squire. 
 
 "Jo was on watch, however, an' I met them right 
 outside. We went into the sittin' room where 
 Susan was alone, all the rest having gone to the 
 hall, upstairs, Jo shook hands with her an' intro- 
 duced the Squire. 
 
 "I suppose we might as well get through with 
 the business at once," said Jo. "Do you want one 
 of your lady friends to be present?" but she shook 
 her head. 
 
 "Please take hold of your right hands," said the 
 Squire. Jo reached for Susan's, but she jerked it 
 away. 
 
 "What's the matter now?" says Jo, in a huff. 
 
 "Arter we're here 'cordin' to agreement, are you 
 goin' to back out?" 
 
 "You ain't the man!" says Susan. 
 
298 THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 
 
 "I ain't the man ! then who the dickens is?" 
 
 "She pointed to me. You bet Jo was on the war- 
 path when she did that. Til settle this with you 
 tomorrow or right now, if you say so/ says Jo, 
 'but I didn't think it of you, Sam ; I trusted you in 
 this matter, an' never thought you would take the 
 girl away from me for yourself.' 
 
 "No more I didn't, Jo." 
 
 "That I can answer for," said Susan, "we never 
 talked a word about it. We was in too big a hurry 
 to get here." 
 
 "Ya'as," says Jo. "Of course you will lie for 
 each other. Maybe you will deny havin' writ this." 
 An' Jo pulls out the letter. 
 
 "I writ it fast enough, but you see I sent it to 
 Mr. Lyons." 
 
 "An' who the dickens am I if not Mr. Lyons?" 
 
 "Oh, I see, I made a sad mistake. I wouldn't a 
 had this happen for the world. I thought this was 
 Mr. Lyons." 
 
 "If that's the case I've nothing more to say. 
 Sam, if this letter was intended for you, you take 
 an' keep it. But I don't believe it, not much," An' 
 Jo bolted for the door. 
 
 "Well, here was a pretty fix for me. Come to be 
 the 'best man' an' if there was a best man needed 
 I would be the chap that would want him. I 
 didn't know what to do or say, so I sot there like 
 
THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 299 
 
 a knot on a log an' waited for things to take their 
 own course. 
 
 "Pretty soon they began to do it. 'I am very 
 much grieved that this matter has turned out the 
 way it has, Mr. Smith, but I really did think you 
 were Mr. Lyons.' 
 
 "Why, how in the world did you get that no- 
 tion?" 
 
 "Why, you an' he et dinner one Sunday at our 
 house an' I asked pap who you two were. An' he 
 told me you were pards and had good claims up the 
 Gulch, a couple of miles, an' then told me your 
 names. An' I asked him which was which an' he 
 told me, but either he or I got the names mixed 
 I disremember now how it was. An' you know I 
 never was introduced to you, though we always 
 spoke." 
 
 "I remember, an' I remember you called me 
 Lyons onct last night. But I thought it was only 
 a mistake, 'cos you was thinkin' of him." 
 
 "I felt orful awkid, I can tell you, but the gal had 
 a deal more sense than I, an' after we sot there a 
 few minutes she says to me, 'Now go an' git ready, 
 for you know I have to take you to the dance. 
 You'll be fined if you go in alone. We'll talk the 
 other matter over tomorrow.' 
 
3OO THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 
 
 "Well, it's 'kinder onexpected,' as you ladies are 
 always said to say, but won't Old Me be after you 
 tomorrow?" 
 
 "Not he; I know him too well. He'll be after 
 another jag, an' if he did come here he dasn't 
 bother me. Now get ready, for I hear the fiddles 
 goin'." 
 
 "It didn't take me long to get ready, an* I was 
 back in five minits. The Squire was gone an' Susan 
 was there alone. She took my arm, and as we 
 started upstairs she stopped me a little an' said. 
 'This thing has turned out so different from what 
 I cal'lated that I'm all upsot and feel narvy. We'll 
 dance the first chance we get an' then I'll go an* 
 rest for I'm plumb gin out. I'll speak to Bet Hally 
 to take you to supper, if I ain't there.' 
 
 "I couldn't say anything agin this, it seemed so 
 reasonable. When we got to the door of the room 
 where the dancing was going on there was a vine- 
 gar-faced woman taking tickets. I was getting out 
 my purse to pay, but Susan stopped me. 'No, sir; 
 this is Leap Year an' we are goin' to claim all the 
 privileges an' take the responsibilities.' She paid 
 for the ticket like a little man an' in we went an' 
 jined in a cotillion, what they call 'quadrills' now- 
 adays. Then she led me to a seat, had a talk with 
 Bet, excused herself to me an' put out. 
 
THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 301 
 
 "I never was much of a hand to dance; my eddi- 
 cation in that line had been awfully neglected. So, 
 after Susan went I was content to be a male-wall- 
 flower until supper time. I just sot ther and thunk. 
 Bet came an' took me into supper, an' you bet I 
 didn't throw off on that. Then I went down to 
 Tobe Luney's place an' turned in. 
 
 "I didn't sleep not much. I kept thinkin' an' 
 couldn't sleep. Gals were powerful scarce in that 
 part of Calif orny, an' though I had never thought 
 about gettin' married before, yet if Susan wanted 
 me, I was as willin' as that feller Barkis was, as I 
 onct read about in a book. I had mor'n two thou- 
 sand in dust salted down, an' both claims were 
 payin'. I just made up my mind that if as pretty 
 a gal as Susan was, wanted to get with me I'd 
 marry her, sure. Then I went to sleep. 
 
 "I slept till pretty late in the mornin', though I 
 gen'rally am a powerful early riser. Toby had et 
 breakfast an' gone, so I pikes over to the hotel 
 where I had left my ducky the night before. The 
 landlord told me she was just eatin' breakfast an' 
 when I went to jine her there she sat alongside of 
 that miserable Thompson. Well, I didn't have 
 much appetite, so when they got through, I was, 
 too, an' follered 'em into the settin' room. 
 
 "Thompson went out an' left us thar. I didn't 
 
3O2 THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 
 
 know exactly how to begin, so I says : 'Hope you 
 feel rested this mornin', Miss Bradley/ 
 
 "Toluble," she says. 
 
 "About what we was to talk of " 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Smith," she says. "I hope you don't 
 consider what I said last night anyways bindin' on 
 you." 
 
 "And why not?" says I. 
 
 "Cos I didn't, an' got married last night." 
 
 "Hee, hee, hee !" says the tall prospector. "That 
 young fellow had his license aforehand and was all 
 ready." 
 
 "License be . We warn't civilized enough 
 
 then to get licenses, or have many divorces. No, 
 sir-ee. Git your gal if she was willin' afore the 
 Squire, an' you was all right. The Squire didn't 
 stop to ask you many questions if he thought the 
 fee would be all right, but I tell you it kinder took 
 me down." 
 
 "Do you mean to say, Susan, that you've been 
 playin' Jo an' me both to have us get you here for 
 that Thompson?" 
 
 "That's about it. You know I told you last 
 night that this was Leap Year an' we were goin' to 
 take all the privileges. I think I've took about all. 
 Don't you?" 
 
 "I felt so doggone mad that I left her without 
 
THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 303 
 
 saying good-bye, got my two bosses an' streaked 
 for home. 
 
 "Jo an' I got good friends again quick as I told 
 him we were in the same boat. Misery loves com- 
 pany, you know. We didn't either have much luck 
 after that venture. Coon Point gin out all of a 
 sudden an' we got into a lawsuit about water for the 
 upper claim, an' we had to sell the water to pay the 
 lawyers. I'm pikin' around here now, havin' et 
 up my two thousand dollars, an' when I think of 
 poor Thompson an' the ten children that might 
 have been mine, I feel tolable glad that Susan 
 didn't carry out any such match with me. 
 
 "I never seed the gal but onct afterwards. 
 Thompson an' her went up to Hawk Holler, an' 
 lived like two turtle doves. Old Me was goin' to 
 break my head for the share I took in it for a long 
 time an' bein' a peaceable man, I kept out of his 
 way. Fin'ly we got together an' I told how the 
 gal played Jo an' I, an' it tickled him so that he 
 insisted on settin' up the drinks me to pay for 
 'em at onct. So I got to goin' there again, an' 
 playin' euchre as before. An' one day when I was 
 there, Susan came, brought with her one of the 
 prettiest gal babies I ever saw, an' they made it all 
 up. I felt kinder sheepish, but she watched her 
 chance an' said to me : 'You really must forgive 
 
304 THE STORY HE TOLD THE PROSPECTORS 
 
 me, Mr. Smith, but I was awfully put on here, an' 
 that was the only way I could see out of it.' Of 
 course she was furguv, but when I hear an' read 
 about the new woman, I wonder if she'll play a 
 feller any better nor that young old un did, mor'n 
 thirty years ago. 
 
 ,